


Codename: M.O.N.S.T.E.R

by Ink-and-stars (AriasOfSnow)



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Dystopia, Dreamer AU, Fate & Destiny, M/M, Romance, game au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-10
Updated: 2018-06-21
Packaged: 2018-08-07 21:55:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 138,850
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7731187
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AriasOfSnow/pseuds/Ink-and-stars
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Chanyeol is the most popular Dreamless boy in the Dome, the current MVP at the M.O.N.S.T.E.R championships, the Breaker who could hack into virtually any database and the only one among his friends who doesn't exactly believe in Destiny. Baekhyun is another infamous terrorist in town, a boy with a heart torn in two, the one who believes in fate and the Dream over all.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Crossposted from LJ!
> 
> So... Here it is! My new full-fledged, chaptered story. It's going to be Prologue + 18 chapters + Epilogue, a total of 20 updates including this one, so I hope you'll support it! As always, thanks to M for beta-ing this, and to Ivette who read this first ;u;
> 
> Also, I am choosing not to tag any specific warnings until the story is completely posted, as the content might change and I dont want to spoil the plot. What you may know as for now is that there will eventually be sexual content and that there is no main character death.

**Prologue**

It was the final round.

Chanyeol felt the rush of adrenaline, the hectic beat of his heart in his ears, the burn of oxygen in his lungs. Even if his body in M.O.N.S.T.E.R was just an avatar, even if his true flesh and bones lain asleep somewhere else, for him the world before his eyes was real. More than the neon lights and dark streets of the Dome, more than the Dream itself.

That was war, the final battle. And he was going to win.

“Sehun!” he screamed while still moving forward, energy blaster in his hand. “Cover me, will you?”

“Why me?” his friend replied, but the red dot signaling his position in the blinking map in the boy’s peripheral vision moved, and Chanyeol just knew he would listen, if even for once. “I am the main damage dealer! You should be covering _me._ ”

“You have a long range rifle _and_ you’re too weak. You will get killed in one shot if you go for the checkpoint, so I am going in.”

“As you wish,” Sehun complied. “Ace.”

Chanyeol inhaled and focused, then lurched forward at max speed as the world collapsed around him. The M.O.N.S.T.E.R system had outdone itself with the map that time, shaping the battlefield as an Old Era train station, with a labyrinth of tunnels and tracks underground and a metal and glass ceiling above their heads. It had been beautiful when they got loaded into the server, and it still was now, in a sense, even if the ground was shaking under his combat boots and the vaulted steel ceiling twisted and bent over his head, crystal shards falling over him like translucid, deadly rain.

Those could kill him, he supposed, if one of the biggest ones sank into his skin. As could the monsters flying over his head, or the ones that jumped and tried to drag him down when he jumped between two platforms. As could, of course, the members of the enemy team, shooting him from the other side of the room while they tried to stay alive themselves. Violence and death were everywhere in M.O.N.S.T.E.R, as it should be in a world where literally _everything_ was out to kill you - that’s why so many people played the game, why everyone in the Dome loved it so much. It was the modern, clean equivalent of the gladiator fights in the arena in the distant, almost forgotten past: public had always loves bloodshed, almost as much as fighters loved glory.

And glory Chanyeol would claim.

He was the best. He would not be defeated.

He had been born for it.

\--

It was the M.O.N.S.T.E.R final round that night.

The whole stadium had been fully reserved for months, but Baekhyun had always had his methods and had sneaked in anyway, face half covered by the hood of his sweater, weapons carefully hidden under it, a cool reminder against his skin. No one looked at him twice while he advanced towards the first row of the standing zone and he guessed he fit right in, in a crowd like this one - just another young man with pierced ears and combat boots among a mob of alternative, rebellious teenagers, screaming at the game being showcased in the screens above their heads like the victor of a virtual fight to death was somehow important. Like it _meant_ something.

It was so easy to deceive them, so easy to keep them entertained. They didn’t know a thing. Never would and never will. They were Dome kids after all: they could play the rebel for a couple of nights because their destiny would be waiting for them after all, when they decided they wanted to be good and pliant once more.

Baekhyun would have laughed in their face. But he was not there for that, not tonight.

He finally reached the fence that separated the public in the standing area of the stadium from the stage while the two teams of players for the M.O.N.S.T.E.R finals were. Eight people, five of them immobile with silver helmets covering their heads - the ones playing - another three just sitting in their chairs, expression grim and eyes locked in the big main screen of the stadium - the ones who had already died inside the game.

Baekhyun curled his fingers around the metal surface of the fence and looked up, grimacing. “The map is a fucking station,” he whispered. Of course it had to be. And the final checkpoint was in a train engine. “You’ve gotta be kidding me.”

It wasn’t hard to find Ace on the screens. He was the one everyone was cheering for, after all, even if his team was outnumbered and his only remaining partner was almost dead, even if he played like a kamikaze and was basically running straight towards danger, shooting at the flying monsters above him while he dodged the attack of one of the members of the enemy team.

His character design had been praised by M.O.N.S.T.E.R freaks all over the Network when Baekhyun had checked, and he looked exactly like a thing that city would love - neon red hair and arm tattoos, leather clothes and the shiniest, most obnoxious energy blaster big gun the boy had ever seen. Highly impractical for a real fight, Baekhyun guessed, but flashy enough if you were some kind of videogame rockstar.

“Isn’t he the best?” a girl at his side practically screamed. Ace had just jumped high in the air at the same exact moment the floor under his feet cracked and opened, torn in two. He looked all-so-epic, aiming with his crimson gun in the air, shooting at the enemy like a pro until one of the rival team members was hit in the face and collapsed, dead ingame and waking up in the real world with a scream. “He is so, _so_ awesome!”

Baekhyun snorted. “He is going to get himself killed.”

The boy had needed to check by himself, to _watch_ , and watching he was. He wasn’t impressed at all, not by the game, much less by that flashy character nor the kid behind him, but he would have to do.

That train station map had to be a sign - it had to mean that his destiny was nearer, closer.

He had been waiting for too long. It was time to make a move.

\--

“You are outnumbered, Ace. It ends here for you now.”

Talk to your opponent, make him lose his confidence. Chanyeol knew that trick, it was usual in M.O.N.S.T.E.R fights, where a single second of distraction could easily turn into death at hands of the enemy team. He had lost battles before because of it, back when he was younger and new to the game, and had let the comments affect him.

It would not happen to him that time, not when he was about to win the tournament for his team and the checkpoint he needed to reach was just beyond him.

“I am faster than you two,” he teased while he checked the scenario around him, above and below and to his sides. The ground still shook under his feet, and the ceiling was a tangled mess of iron wires, moving like their almost were a living thing, closing like giant, skeletal fingers around them. They looked about to collapse. “I can outrun you to the checkpoint.”

“Not if we shoot you in the head,” one of his rivals said.

Chanyeol only grinned. It was the kind of smirk he would have never dared to smile in real life, but Park Chanyeol was only one more lanky kid at the Dome, and Ace would forever be the king of M.O.N.S.T.E.R. “You wish,” he whispered, his mind focused, his attention divided between the flashing mini-map at the corner of his vision, his enemy, his surroundings and the checkpoint beyond. There were two conditions he needed to meet for winning: claiming that checkpoint for himself and not letting his whole team be killed. _Easy enough._ “Sehun!” he called.

He didn’t wait for an answer - he just dashed forward, heartbeat drumming in his ear, gun firmly gripped. One of their enemies raised her gun and shot him, and he could feel the hit of her bullet on his chest, an electric shock kind of ache that didn’t last for long and couldn’t stop him. “LOW HP,” a feminine, robotic voice recited in his ear. “CRITICAL STATE OF ARMOR.”

“I know, I know,” he whispered, smirking once more when he heard the enemy girl scream and saw her fall to her knees out of the corner of his eye, hands on her head before her figure trembled and disintegrated. Quicked out of the game. Deleted in one clean shot. “Good job, Sehun!” he shouted. Then he aimed with his blaster and shot.

Not at their remaining enemy. Not at the monsters flying around him. He wouldn’t hit his mark from a distance if he was running, and he would be killed if he stopped, so he pulled his last card and fired towards the ceiling, at the frailest part of the chaos of metal and glass. He focused back his attention on the checkpoint on the old train engine. He didn’t see the structure collapse but he heard it, _felt_ the whole station shake to the core of his bones. He sensed his enemy’s shot - a hiss a bit too close to his ear but a miss nonetheless - and grinned wider when he listened to his screams as he was finally buried under a pile of metal and shards of glass.

The crow monsters were going for him now, all at once, and the ceiling was still collapsing around him, but he was so close. How much left? Ten meters? Twenty at most. “Activate speed!” he screamed.

And that was it: his last character skill, the one he only was allowed to use once in the game, and that he had saved for the end. The world turned into a blur around him and his body was burning, but it was the nice kind of burn - fire in his veins when he jumped above the train tracks, flames in this fingers when they close around one of the metal handles at the side of the old train engine. He climbed then, until he was kneeling at the ceiling of the red locomotive. He pressed his hands down on the mark there, until it lit up in white and gold and the robotic voice in his head spoke once more.

“STATION CHECKPOINT CLAIMED BY TEAM EXODUS.”

So that was it. That was all.

Chanyeol looked up, just in time to see a whole murder of crow monsters going for him, all at once. He barely felt the hit when they crashed against him, pushing him away from the top of the train and into the tracks. He was too low on HP, he couldn’t survived, and still he smiled while he felt the familiar, nauseating pull of server disconnection somewhere in his brain. The last thing he saw before he was kicked out of the game was the remains of the broken ceiling, metal and glass shards falling around him like shimmering rain, and total, absolute blackness beyond.

_Of course there is no sky,_ he thought. _There is never a sky._

The world of M.O.N.S.T.E.R faded into nothing, and he felt suspended in time and space, his stomach churning. And suddenly there was too much noise, too much light filtering under the lower hem of his visor, and his body felt heavy and confused, too weak and uncomfortable and slow.

The transition was always like this. Ace was powerful and skilled, a virtual avatar created by the standards of M.O.N.S.T.E.R. Park Chanyeol, the Dreamless boy of the Dome, was only human.

_Shit, did we make it?_ He wondered, trembling fingers moving up to remove the Immersive Virtual Reality visor from his head. His fingers still felt so big and clumsy, like they weren’t completely his own, but he couldn’t afford a single second of not knowing.

The IVR visor came out. Chanyeol blinked, trying to focus his vision and sat up on his chair, turning his whole body towards the main screen so fast that he felt nauseous for a second.

_Come on._ There were two conditions that needed to be met for them to win the finals. They needed to claim the checkpoint, which had been done. And at least one of their members needed to be alive after that. _Come on. It’s Junmyeon’s last game today. Come on._

The image on the screen was a mess of black monster feathers and white dust, the camera still focused in the place where Chanyeol had been. Then it zoomed out, so slowly, and the whole station was visible. The cracked paved floor, the ruined platforms, the metal wires collapsed on the floor. And in a corner, rifle in hand and body crouched behind the fallen remains of a wall, was Sehun’s white haired avatar, his HP bar almost full, his lips curved up in a small, lopsided smirk.

So that was it?

“We won,” Chanyeol whispered. “We won!”

He turned once more, towards the seats of his teammates. Junmyeon looked at him and smiled; Jongin gave him a thumbs up. Further away, in the rival section, the girl who had almost killed him back in the game nodded at him. “Good game, Ace,” she told him. “Well played.”

Chanyeol was about to reply, but then came the roar of the crowd. It was the loudest the boy had heard, the deafening howl of thousands of people cheering for them at once. Because that was it, they have managed to do it - Team Exodus had won the M.O.N.S.T.E.R finals and all their fans were screaming for them, calling their names like they were the kings of the world.

He probably looked too shocked and too pale, but Chanyeol didn’t care. He waved to the multitude in the standing section of the stadium, smiled to two kids wearing t-shirts with his character’s face, laughed when he saw a girl in first row with a neon pink Ace banner bigger than she was.

And was then when he spotted him - the only still figure among his fans. The boy in the red hoodie with the unreadable expression on his face, dark bangs falling over his eyes and pale, slender fingers gripping the fence that separated stage from public, just in front of where he was. Chanyeol didn’t even know why he noticed him - perhaps it only had been because he has been the closest to his position, or maybe it had been the glint of the silver chain that hung from the ring in his bottom lip. The only thing he knew was that the boy was there and that he looked him in the eye for a second, just before turning around and disappearing among the pushing crowd of fans fighting to be closer to him.

So that was it. How it all started. His transition from Ace to Zero.


	2. Login 01

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm posting this today as a birthday present for Lucchan!! Have the greatest of days, ily!
> 
> Also, to everyone else, here's 12.7K of first chapter so I hope you enjoy!

**Login 01**

 

It was raining again when Sehun came to get him.

They did that, sometimes, the men of the Obelisk - program the weather system of the Dome to a faint drizzle, to “clean the atmosphere and freshen the air.” It was the third time that it happened that month, and Chanyeol had stayed at home the other two rainy nights. The thick, grey clouds generated by the weather system had always made him feel a bit uneasy, perhaps because they dimmed the glow of the neon signs on the streets and didn’t let him see the opaque, glass ceiling of the Dome beyond.

He hated the rainwater getting on his comm glasses, too. He could perfectly see without having to wear them, but what if he put them in his pocket and there was an incoming call? What if he needed to search something on the Network? The weight of them on his nose reminded him a bit of his M.O.N.S.T.E.R IVR visor, and that always made him feel safer, somehow.

“Are you going to the bar dressed like that?” Sehun commented, standing in the middle of his living room with his arms crossed over his chest. As usual, he looked like one of the fashion models who advertised luxury brands in the holograms all over the metro stations - his dyed blond hair carefully arranged; his sweater, shirt, jeans and coat all matching; a faint trace of disdain in his expression. He even had polished his shoes.

“How do you want me to go?” Chanyeol replied, while he searched for his favorite snapback under the pile of clothes that had covered half of his sofa since his previous laundry day. “We are going to interview some new guys for the team, not to a VIP party.”

“They wouldn’t let you into any VIP party like that. You have been wearing the same hoodie for five days.”

Chanyeol’s fingers finally found something that felt like his snapback, and he pulled to rescue it from the depths of the heap of jeans and t-shirts. “Not five days, only three,” he clarified, very matter-of-factly, while he adjusted the cap on his head. “And besides, it doesn’t smell. I checked while I was dressing before.”

“What a relief.” Sehun sounded utterly annoyed, but the other boy knew him well enough to know that he wasn’t judging him - Chanyeol and his collections of black, worn hoodies and big sweaters had been a constant in his life for years, and despite always complaining, Sehun was never serious. He was the fashionable gamer stereotype, the princely type of their group. Chanyeol liked to think he himself was the friendlier, nerdier player type. “I comm-ed a taxi, by the way. We don’t want to be late. Jongin is already waiting at the bar, but he had never been good at interviewing people by himself. He always thinks everybody is good enough for the job.”

“Which can be a problem alright,” Chanyeol replied with a snicker. His favorite sport shoes were among his other footwear close to the entry door, so he just ushered Sehun outside while he crouched and put them on. He look around for an umbrella for a moment, but it didn’t take him too long to remember than he had lost, probably months ago, the last one he had bought. The hood of his sweater would have to do until he could get another one at the convenience store.

The taxi Sehun had comm-ed was already waiting for them under the light rain when the two boys came out of the building, and Chanyeol practically launched himself in as soon as the driver commanded the passenger door open.

“To Black Light, in the Fourth Ward” Sehun instructed once he was seated beside him. Chanyeol knew the place, of course, and he turned to face his friend, eyebrows risen, as the vehicle buzzed into motion.

“We are interviewing people in Black Light?”

“Yes. Why not?”

“We are a professional M.O.N.S.T.E.R team.  _ The _ professional M.O.N.S.T.E.R team. Are we really meeting the candidates to, you know, join us in the next tournament season in a posh, fancy bar?”

“Yes.”

“It doesn’t exactly seem very appropriate. And it’s also probably very noisy, you know?”

“Well, you told me to organize it all, and it’s not like Junmyeon is here anymore to supervise me, right?”

“Right.”

Chanyeol sighed, leaning on the back of his seat and turning to look off the taxi window. He had always liked the streets of the Dome at night, even when it rained. The Sixth Ward, where he lived, was mainly a calm, residential area, but the Fourth and Fifth Wards had been his favorites since he was a child - ample avenues surrounded by a labyrinth of tiny alleys, the traffic highways wide enough for the heavy traffic, the pedestrian walkways and promenades below lively and full of people, no matter how late it was. There were neon signs everywhere, big plasma screens on the skyscraper walls, some of them advertising the lastest products, others playing colorful Dream-related infomercials. The biggest one, at the Fifth Ward main crossing, was showing a replay of the M.O.N.S.T.E.R tournament finals - Chanyeol’s own avatar, Ace, claiming the last checkpoint amidst a rain of metal, debris and glass.

He was glad, somehow, that every young person in town knew his videogame character while not having much interest in the player behind. M.O.N.S.T.E.R was already a big enough part of his life at it was, and the real world was already disconcerting enough sometimes to be recognized by fans when he just wanted to be Park Chanyeol for a while.

Especially when his pro gamer life hadn’t been exactly peaceful lately, either.

“That was a great game,” Sehun said, his voice quiet, as the taxi left the Fifth Ward crossroad behind, just in the same moment the Ace on the screen got finally killed in the M.O.N.S.T.E.R world. “The best we’ll have in a while.”

Chanyeol didn’t look at him. “Are you still angry at Junmyeon?” he asked. “He got his Dream-assigned job, you shouldn’t blame him.”

“The Dream also gave jobs to Jongin and me and none of us left the team. First, he started getting all naggy on us because he didn’t want us to go Breaking, and now he just… leaves Team Exodus because he has to  _ work. _ ”

The other boy shook his head. “Breaking is technically a little bit illegal, remember?” he whispered, hoping the glass separating them from the taxi driver was soundproof enough. They always were, once the ride started. “And besides, you cannot compare. Junmyeon got assigned to the science bureau. He works for the Obelisk guys, remember? He has one of those important, time consuming jobs, while Jongin is assigned to the postal office and you are in the trash department.”

“Excuse me, but I am a Waste Disposal Employee,” Sehun corrected, noise up in the air, and Chanyeol couldn’t help the smile that curved the corners of his lips upward. No one in the whole Dome could have said that someone as conceptually snob as his best friend could had been chosen by the Dream to be in charge of the city trash, but there he was coordinating the garbage trucks and the town dumpsters from his office. Chanyeol almost enjoyed the Dream system at times like those. “And who cares anyway? A day job is a day job. I need to be there for my shifts and after they end I can leave and be OhSniper, the silver death on the M.O.N.S.T.E.R fields.”

Chanyeol’s smile turned into a tired laugh. “Have I ever told you that your username is ridiculous?”

“Every day. And I will never agree. But that’s not the point.”

“No, the point is that both you and Jongin have free time enough after work to keep both your job and your place in the M.O.N.S.T.E.R league, but Junmyeon can’t. And he knows it and you know it, as you knew it before the finals two months ago, when he told us he was leaving after the tournament ended.”

Sehun remained silent for a while. “Of course I do,” he replied with a sigh. “But I can’t help being upset about it. It’s Junmyeon deserting from the team now, after we made it to the top, and after fighting together for years. Team Exodus has been a constant in my life since I was in middle school, and thinking about it changing is…  _ weird. _ Perhaps you will be the next one to leave, you know? When you finally get your job.”

“The Dream would have to give me one for that,” Chanyeol whispered. “But yeah, I understand what you mean, and you shouldn’t worry. Team Exodus is the strongest there is, and will always be. Okay?”

“...Okay.”

The taxi turned left in the next road fork, then headed out of the elevated traffic highway and down to the Fourth Ward Avenue, a broad street full of shiny signs, open stores and fancy bars and restaurants. People on the pedestrian walkways looked all pretty there, dressed in brand clothes and designer shoes and with their hair carefully bleached and arranged, even despite the rain, and Chanyeol felt suddenly underdressed to be there. That was, perhaps, the main reason he usually went to the Fifth Ward instead of the Fourth - people in Fifth were way more casual.

“Where do you want me to drop you?” A hologram of the taxi driver’s face appeared on the glass screen that separated his and the passenger seats. “Is the Fourth Ward Crossroad fine with you?”

“I guess,” Sehun said, shrugging. Black Light didn’t have a car access and the boy had been there too many times not to know. He sighed when the hologram disappeared. “It’s still raining.”

“It will be, almost all night. The weather control department sent an announcement,” Chanyeol whispered.

“Yeah, got that on my comm before I went out. Just in time to take my folding umbrella.” Sehun’s back was to him as his friend watched the taxi stop in one side of the crossroad. “The ride’s on me, Yeol,” he added when the vehicle finally stopped, scanning the ID chip on his wrist on the reader close to the exit door. He always said that, even if Chanyeol never paid. He got money enough to live by their sponsors on M.O.N.S.T.E.R, but that didn’t make someone exactly rich in the Dome.

The rain outside was still barely a drizzle, but it felt uncomfortable on his skin, and Chanyeol pulled up the hood of his sweater as soon as he was out of the car. He would had preferred to be out in Fourth any other day, but he loved the feeling of being there anyway - the tall buildings surrounding the two main streets, all the people walking across them as soon as the traffic lights turned green, the vehicles buzzing almost silently on the roads above,  the music and the light and the sound. That was the only thing he preferred over videogame maps, and he could feel himself smiling every single time he went downtown.

“Come on,” Sehun said, calling him out of his reverie and guiding the way towards the north side of the Fourth Ward Avenue. Black Light wasn’t very far from where they were; it had changed locations two years ago and now its main and VIP gates were in one of the big, secondary streets just behind the Fourth Avenue.

They actually went it through the black glass and gold VIP doors, after Sehun had greeted and smiled to the bouncer, and Chanyeol felt very tempted to raise his eyebrows at him once more when they were granted access without further inquiries.

“I know the owner,” his friend said, replying to his silent question, and Chanyeol shook his head. He didn’t know why he was surprised when Sehun literally knew everyone important in town.

“Okay, where now?”

“Other side of the room. I got us a private booth. Jongin should already be there.”

“Great,” Chanyeol replied. He was more than sure than Sehun had chosen the setting for the interviews thinking of the best for the team, but he would had felt a little intimidated by that place if he was a gamer kid looking for a pro team to play M.O.N.S.T.E.R. Damn, he probably was the king of gamer kids nowadays and still felt pretty much out of place.

Black Light interior designers had tried their best to honor its name, and everything inside the place was dark. The floor and walls were painted ink-black, and the illumination that fell over the bar and the mass of dancing bodies on the floor was pearl grey and cobalt blue. Chanyeol only came to that place when Sehun practically dragged him inside, and he still didn’t understand what was the point in spending more than 100 credits to get into a disco bar if you couldn’t even  _ see _ most of what was around you. He had always preferred rock bars and cozy cafes - though he had to admit the mesmerizing, electronic beat that came through the ceiling speakers  _ was _ pretty nice.

Sehun ran into at least three people in their way from the entrance to the corridor leading to the private booths - Chanyeol didn’t really understand how the hell were his acquaintances actually able to spot him, if he barely even knew where he was going and the place was more crowded than not - but finally turned to him when they left the swarm of partygoers behind.

“Our booth his behind the second door on the right. It should unlock if you scan your ID chip on the reader,” he told him.

“They have ID readers for this?” Chanyeol muttered incredulously. He didn’t even have one at his apartment. Once he had walked to the door, he lifted up his sleeve and slid his bare wrist over the square sensor, that lit up and beeped almost instantly. When the boy turned the handle, the door opened without any trace of resistance. “Woah. Why do they call these things booths if they look more like whole fucking rooms?”

“Because it sounds more elegant.” Sehun shrugged and walked in.

The walls and floor - and even the table and chairs, for the Dreamers’ sake - were jet-black, but at least the lighting was ice blue instead of cobalt. And then there was the ceiling. Chanyeol had never seen something like that in a bar: a stained glass of navy and gold and white, depicting a female figure sleeping in a bed of blue roses. It looked very Old Era, and so strangely pretty that the boy only realized that Jongin was sitting on one of the sofas  _ and _ talking to him until his friend rose his voice.

“Yeol?”

“Ah, hi! Were you saying something?” Chanyeol settled for his most apologetic smile and sat next to him, while Sehun judged him from the sofa across the table. He realized then that Jongin had dressed up for the occasion too. He looked like he belonged to that place, legs wrapped in black jeans and cobalt leather jacket on his shoulders. Which meant like, oh, great, Chanyeol was the only one who looked like he hadn’t left his room in a month. He removed his hood and snapback, trying to make himself look a bit more presentable and less stupid, and saw the other boy squint.

“I wasn’t saying anything important, but... It’s the lights or did you dye your hair orange?”

“What?” Chanyeol’s fingers sank on the slightly wet locks on his forehead. “It’s supposed to be red.”

“It  _ used _ to be red, like three weeks ago,” Sehun corrected. “But he doesn’t know how to take care of it and now it looks… like something between disappointing orange and salmon pink.”

“Disappointing orange isn’t even a color,” Chanyeol started to protest.

“It is, when it’s faded like that,” Jongin chimed in, his voice calm over the muted electronic music that kept blasting at the other side of the door.

“I had hopes on him when he changed his hair to red, because, hey, at least it was a different color from all the stuff he owns or wears,” Sehun added, while he casually flicked over the drink menu that had been stacked with others in one corner of their table. “I don’t know why he complains about this place so much. All of his clothes are darker than the walls and floor anyway; he fits right in.”

Chanyeol would have preferred to act elegantly offended, but he already could feel himself starting to pout. “Guys, do you know I am right here listening to you speak?”

Sehun didn’t even look up. “Yes.”

“Well, I just-- Black clothes are easier to wash. I think.”

“And it’s not like you go out much because you are jobless  _ and _ too busy trying to remain on top of the M.O.N.S.T.E.R ranks at the same time. I know. Sponsors are so happy with you having your avatar ingame almost 24/7, but you should live a bit too, you know? Go out. Loosen up a little.”

“I do go out,” Chanyeol replied. “I  _ am _ out now.”

“Because we have people to interview  _ for the team. _ ”

“It is a reason as good as any.” Being completely honest with himself, Chanyeol had to admit that Sehun was right about both his hair color and his wardrobe, but he was mistaken about everything else. He went out, to restaurants and cafes and vintage shops that sold replicas of Old Era toy cars, action figures or gaming machines. He had long walks at night when it wasn’t raining. It was just partying hard that he didn’t like. Perhaps his general, non-online lifestyle was too calm - boring, according to Sehun, and definitely not what one would expect of the M.O.N.S.T.E.R absolute champion. Which was, by the way, more than okay. He didn’t need excitement once he logged out the server and took his IVR helmet off. “And, speaking of interviews, when was supposed the first candidate to arrive? We have come here for a reason, right? And we have a lot of work to do.”

Sehun sighed. “Yes, Team Leader,” he said. “The sooner we start, the sooner you can go home.”

\--

Chanyeol hadn’t expected for the interviews to go completely smoothly, but he would had never thought they would end up turning into such a  _ mess. _

They had contacted five candidates -  _ five _ \- among former members of top-tier teams, players in the highest levels of the game rankings and popular members of specialized M.O.N.S.T.E.R online forums, with the intention of asking them questions to try to know them first before arranging an online test and, two hours and four people after, they were still at step one. Or, much more accurately, at step  _ zero. _

Sehun dedicated all his efforts to look at every candidate like he was judging them - which he obviously was - while Jongin just took occasional sips from the drink in his black glass and smiled pleasantly at everyone. And perhaps that was the problem: that Sehun was still bitter about Junmyeon and didn’t like anyone, while Jongin looked very sleepy but claimed he was okay with every single person that came in.

And then there was Chanyeol in the middle, the only one in his right mind to consider what was good for Team Exodus and what was not… and for now he was running out of options.

“I don’t know what’s that thing you’ve been ordering but do me a favor and get me another glass,” he grunted.

Of course, Sehun complied and started tapping on the tactile menu screen, and Chanyeol couldn’t be more grateful. Maybe if he got drunk to the point of losing consciousness he would forget how deep in trouble he was.

The new M.O.N.S.T.E.R season was starting in four months. Four. And with Junmyeon gone they needed to find someone to fill his role, to train whoever this person was and to adapt the whole team’s performance so they could work flawlessly together and win. He has the MVP of the previous championship, after all, and he wouldn’t settle for less than perfect.

His problem was that every single person they had interviewed had been just hopeless.

There had been four of them so far. The ego-boosted idiot (“you should be thankful I am considering playing for your team, Ace. I have been labeled as the best of my role in the MONStrous.com website”), the this-is-not-my-role aspirant (“I don’t play support usually. Who does even main support? But I can try”), the greedy kind of guy (“let’s talk about sponsor royalties, how much do I get?”) and the teenage gamer with anger problems (“I would consider joining only if you bunch don’t die on me too much like all those assholes out there do”). He had gotten the whole lot: a complete pack on everyone he would  _ never, ever _ hire if he wanted his team to work.

Casual M.O.N.S.T.E.R players always complained about the game being full of idiots who could ruin your experience. Apparently, it didn’t get any better on the top-tier, competitive leagues.

“There you go,” Sehun told him, handing him a black glass full to the brim of something very alcoholic. Apparently, the waiter had come with their latest order while he was too busy despairing. “Like anyone so far?”

“What do you think? The only thing I’d  _ like _ to do regarding those people would be locking them all together in a room and then running in the opposite direction. I had forgotten how… difficult the people in the M.O.N.S.T.E.R servers can be.”

“If you’re feeling blue, remember that today is only the first day,” said Sehun, deadpanning. “We have more interviews arranged for tomorrow, and the day after, and the day after that.”

Chanyeol groaned. “I doubt there could be someone worse than those four people we talked to tonight. What could be? A serial murderer?”

“Hey, but you still have another guy left to interview,” Jongin commented, with his back resting on the black leather sofa and his drink on his hand.

“I? Don’t you mean we?” Chanyeol closed his eyes for a moment, trying to get his peace of mind back before he proceeded. He activated his comm glasses when he was ready to go on, looking through the Team Exodus notes in his memo folder. There was one last, not-crossed name at the bottom of the holographic page, and Chanyeol frowned. “Who is this Chen person? The name is not familiar. They don’t play in the official tournaments, do they?”

“I don’t think so?” Sehun shrugged. “But Jongin and I got placed on the same side on a practice battle and he was decent at it. We played a couple of games after and he matched our style well, so we decided to sign him up for all this interview process when he asked us about Junmyeon’s vacant.”

“Are you two playing practice matches without me? I am actually hurt.” Chanyeol feigned offense as he navigated through the folders. He didn’t have that much data about the guy, but his win-lose ratio in general, 4vs4 games seemed at least decent overall. “But well, if you have already played with him and you liked him I am assuming that he isn’t obsessed with sponsor royalties or has have anger issues?”

“He seemed pretty chill when he played with us,” Jongin said. Which wasn’t 100% trustworthy because Jongin liked everyone, but still was better than nothing. He still wondered if he was organizing all that vacant filling hunt as it should be done. Things always had seemed much easier when Junmyeon was Team Leader and not him.

“Okay, it will have to do. Is he here already?”

“I guess so, let me check.” Sehun took his comm out of his pocked and tapped on the screen for a while. When he looked up, he frowned a bit but nodded. “He is here, but has come to the club with a friend. It’s okay to let both of them in? He doesn’t want to leave him outside alone.”

Chanyeol was already too done to argue, or perhaps the alcohol he had drunk was already kicking in after three glasses. “We have room enough, don’t we?”

“Okay then, wait.”

Sehun messaged on his comm for a little longer, and then he sighed and blocked his screen. A couple of minutes after, the buzzer on the door rang and he got up to open it, his expression neutral.

“Ah, sorry, is this the booth for Exodus Team?” a voice said above the muffled electronic music in the corridor outside. Chanyeol couldn’t see the person yet, but he sounded friendly enough. And loud. What wasn’t exactly a bad thing per se. “I am Chen, and I was just talking to OhSniper a while ago? Who I think that, according to the photos on the Network, might be you?”

“I am OhSniper,” Sehun admitted, looking still pretty uninterested. Then he looked up, and for some reason his eyes opened wide. “Oh, well,” he added after a second of silence. “Come in. The both of you.”

Who most possibly was Chen stepped into the room, smiling first at him and then at Jongin. He was the most normal looking out of the bunch they had interviewed that night - just another normal kid like the ones Chanyeol usually saw around the Fifth Ward, dressed in a blue sweater and jeans, his dark hair slightly wet because of the rain.

“So you’re Ace. I’m most pleased to meet you,” he told him. His smile was cordial enough, even though it was somewhat impish. Feline. He looked a bit like a naughty child.

“Ah, the champion of the Dome,” another voice said, just then. “That’s you in the flesh, I see.”

Chanyeol didn’t know what he had expected out of Chen’s friend, but it was certainly not  _ that _ . Everything in the room they were in was black and blue, but the second boy that came into the place was wearing red - a crimson leather biker jacket, absurdly bright over the coldness of the colors around them.

He would have probably felt very uncomfortable if he had to use clothes that flashy to go out, but the stranger seemed surprisingly at ease as he walked towards the center of the room like he was some famous rockstar. If Jongdae looked like a normal Fifth Ward boy, then his friend was every inch the alternative kid from the center Dome districts, from the piercings on his ears to his logo shirt, ripped jeans and combat boots. His lip was pierced too, the ring on it connected to a tiny, glittering chain that ended somewhere on his collar. There was something strangely familiar about him, although Chanyeol couldn’t quite place it.

“What? Isn’t no one going to say hi to me?” he asked. His voice was a bit husky, sounded faintly amused, and Chanyeol could very well recognize danger when he saw it, but he parted his lips to reply anyway.

“Well, hello,” Sehun said instead, before he could mutter a single word. He was smiling, for the first time in that whole night, and Chanyeol couldn’t help to feel slightly betrayed. “Do you want to take a seat?”

“Of course, don’t mind me.” The boy waved him off with a hand before he moved towards the sofas and sat just beside Chanyeol. He was shorter than him, he noticed, smaller, but he still looked up at him like he owned the place. “So, Ace. I watched your last game. That was the coolest suicide I’ve ever seen.”

Chanyeol wasn’t very sure if that was a compliment or an insult. “Well, I won,” he said, and the boy laughed. He was good looking enough, pretty as the M.O.N.S.T.E.R sceneries were just before the two teams met in the middle for a fight, all of him flawless skin and black hair falling over his forehead in a carefully arranged mess, but there was also something…  _ odd _ about him. It was his eyes, Chanyeol realized after a second: they looked realistic enough, but they were too piercing, too intense, colored a shade of gray who almost glinted silver. Synthetic irises. Bionic. And it was then when he remembered. “You were there at the tournament finals. I saw you there, you were on first row.”

“What can I say, I am your fan.” They boy’s smile turned into a smirk as he leaned back on his seat. His moves were fluid, graceful like a cat’s; they fitted the electronic music in the background perhaps a bit too well. “Ah, but don’t mind me. Weren’t we here so you could interview my friend? I don’t wanna distract you.”

“You’re not--” Chanyeol started, turning his head to look in front of him. He was met with Sehun raised eyebrows and by Chen, looking at him almost like he felt for him.

“Baekhyun,” he admonished.

“What? I am just being nice.”

“I can see that,” Chen muttered. He smiled to Chanyeol after that. “Just tell me if he bothers you. I am Jongdae, by the way. Kim Jongdae, alias Chen in the game. Baekhyun here is right: I came here so you could interview me for the vacant in your team.”

The questions, of course. Chanyeol had asked exactly the same things for four times already, but he opened the file on his comm anyway, and cleared his throat when the document appeared on the mini-screen on his glasses. “It’s kind of a formalism,” he explained. “But we want to know a bit more of our candidates before we test them online.”

“Pretty understandable,” Jongdae said. “Shoot.”

“Okay. So, how long have you been playing M.O.N.S.T.E.R?”

“Me? Let’s see. I think I was in high school when I started so, five, six years?”

“And you mainly play support classes?”

“I guess I do. I play every type of character, to be very honest, but I did support for a couple of games with OhSniper and Kai here, and I think they liked me.”

“I see.” Chanyeol recorded the answer and gave Jongdae an encouraging nod before proceeding to the next one. “If you were to join Team Exodus, how much time you think you could dedicate to us? Daily, weekly… You know, for practice games and meetings and that kind of stuff.”

“Um. Perhaps three or four hours on weekdays? You can have my weekends, but I have to work from Monday to Friday.”

He looked a little unsure about his reply, and Sehun patted him in the shoulder in encouragement. “Ah, don’t worry, that’s more or less the same amount of time Jongin and I use for M.O.N.S.T.E.R every day. We all have a job, man, Chanyeol is the only one who remains Dreamless here.”

“He even got himself a title on the Network forums,” Jongin added. “The most famous Dreamless boy of the Dome.”

“Hey, that’s not--” Chanyeol didn’t normally care that much about his lack of (positive) letters from the Dream Department, and was okay with his friends making jokes out of it, but he had not expected them to do it in the middle of a M.O.N.S.T.E.R interview. Not when they were talking to the only candidate that seemed decent enough for their team, and when his friend was sitting so close to him that their shoulders almost touched, studying his face with those grey, synthetic eyes. Not that it was unknown information, but... “I am still twenty-two, I could start receiving letters anytime soon.”

“At least think that at least now you’re most possibly too old to be sent out to the army or something,” Sehun replied, and Chanyeol was gonna reply, if only to fight the cold shiver that ran down his back, when he felt the press of fingers against his arm.

“Come on, don’t tease the poor boy. Perhaps the Dream has great things in store for him,” Baekhyun said, the chain hanging from his bottom lip swaying as he spoke. “Not everyone can be destined to have a brilliant career in the trash department. Others have different purposes.”

Sehun’s face went absolutely pale for a moment. “How do you know…?” he started, then paused. “You checked my online profile, right? Damn it, I told them to change it. It’s called the Waste Disposal Office.”

“I know,” Baekhyun said, still smiling. Chanyeol thought he would remove his fingers from his arm then, but he only slid them down to his wrist, too slowly for the gesture to be entirely unintended. “But trash department sounds way more fun. Sorry about that, Mr. OhSniper.”

“My name is Oh Sehun.”

“I know, too. Online profile, remember? Byun Baekhyun, by the way. At your service.”

“Anyway,” Chanyeol interrupted them, sighing. He could feel Baekhyun’s eyes on him, but he did his best to ignore them and return to the task at hand. “Jongdae. If you say you play three or four hours a day, that’s okay with us for the time being. We usually train after normal work hours, because it’s the most convenient to Jongin and Sehun. I do have another question, though.”

“And that is?”

“Have you… played in the normal server often, lately? Because your win-lose ratio is pretty decent, from what I’m seeing on my comm, but I have never had a match against you, I think. Your username doesn’t seem familiar, either.”

Jongdae, in front of him, laced his fingers on the table and laughed before replying. “One third of the Dome population plays M.O.N.S.T.E.R. I haven’t been in tournaments before, so what are the chances of meeting both your teammates  _ and _ you in normal games?”

“It’s just… I have the public statistics here, and you don’t have as many games played as Sehun, or Jongin, or me. But you’re good. Surprisingly so, according to the data.”

“What can I say, I am a lucky man. I probably win more games than I deserve.”

Baekhyun pressed himself a bit more against Chanyeol’s side, fingers shifting from his wrist to his thigh, pressing softly to draw his attention. “Jongdae is too humble,” he said, as Chanyeol let out a shaky breath. “He wins because he plays a lot, but perhaps he doesn’t appear in all that official data you have because he goes for private servers a lot.”

Jongdae’s friendly expression suddenly closed into warning. “Baekhyun,” he started, but his friend leaned forward on his seat and just gave him the cheekiest shit-eating grin of the whole universe.

“What? I thought you all M.O.N.S.T.E.R top players were into Breaking.”

A sudden silence fell upon the room, and for a moment the only thing Chanyeol could hear was the muffled cadence of the music outside and the loud thumps of his heart. He certainly hadn’t expected any of his interviews to take that turn, and much less for someone to look as impishly amused as Baekhyun after bringing up such a topic among strangers.

“Come on,” he was saying. “Don’t be boring.”

“You are a Breaker?” Jongin then asked, turning towards Jongdae with genuine interest for the first time since the whole questioning had began.

“I-- Well, I… I guess you could say that I have Broken into stuff using the M.O.N.S.T.E.R mod but I…” Jongdae whispered, looking at Baekhyun like he was torn between killing him and pleading for his help. “Just don’t call the Obelisk police on me? Please?”

Baekhyun grinned at Chanyeol, grey eyes locking onto his. “Ah, but you wouldn’t. We are only talking about having fun. Right?”

And Chanyeol was about to reply that he wasn’t so sure about all that - Junmyeon certainly wouldn’t have approved - when he saw Sehun smiling. And that was a problem, because Sehun was usually too done with the world in general to look anything besides elegantly bored. There were only three scenarios in which he looked so satisfied: one, when he was teasing Chanyeol; two, when he showed the world how good he was in the M.O.N.S.T.E.R tournaments; and three, when he was doing - or about to do - something stupid and probably illegal.

And whichever option it was, Chanyeol knew he was going to be in for the ride too, no matter whether he liked it or not.

“Of course we are not going to call the Obelisk guys,” Sehun said, eyes glistening. “Do you really Break? Cause I love to as well, you know.” Then, he turned to him, and Chanyeol could already confirm he was screwed. “Hey, Team Leader, I like this guy. Let’s test his skills, okay?”

\--

“So who do you think will win?”

Chanyeol glanced at the three boys sitting on the floor of his living room: Jongin, Sehun and Jongdae, bodies still and silver IVR helmets on their heads. The plasma screen on one of the walls was on, depicting three M.O.N.S.T.E.R-like avatars on a blurry sea of red, white and blue. He could have calibrated the system to see what his friends were doing, but he honestly wasn’t in the mood  _ at all. _

“It’s not about winning, you know? There’s no enemy team. They are playing against the environment, all of them.”

“Ah, but there  _ is _ a competition. To see who can go further. Hack deeper. Isn’t that what Breaking is all about?”

Baekhyun was smiling at him when Chanyeol turned his head to stare, a lean figure half reclined and half sprawled on his sofa, combat boots practically on the other boy’s lap and can of beer between his long, thin fingers. He had looked like he owned the fancy VIP rooms of Black Light, and now he seemed completely at ease on Chanyeol’s old sofa, body relaxed and expression slightly teasing.

“Not really. Or well, yes, perhaps. Maybe.” Chanyeol shut his mouth just in time to save part of his little remaining dignity and to hear Baekhyun laugh, all low and husky. He had two fingers on his mouth, just grazing his bottom lip, as if he had attempted to muffle the sound but not really tried. “I mean, it can be. Many M.O.N.S.T.E.R players use the mod to compete illegally, but most of us… Most people just started with the thing because they wanted to the test their limits. See how far they could get in maps that are not generated by the official server. It’s a matter of pride.”

“Real life, real danger.” Baekhyun’s smile twisted into a knowing smirk. “I can relate.”

“Also really illegal,” Chanyeol pointed out. “It’s a hack. Exploiting an opening in the M.O.N.S.T.E.R code to use it to Break into restricted-access databases and such.”

“I know,” Baekhyun whispered. “As I know not everyone is good enough to breach high-security Network sites. Do you think they will be able?”

Chanyeol blinked. “Who?”

“Your friends. Jongdae is a nice Breaker, but he has never been able to go further than middle security. But then again, he is not the M.O.N.S.T.E.R champion of the Dome. I would like to see how those team partners of yours can take it.”

There was clear interest in Baekhyun’s soft features as he observed the boys seated on the carpet and the blurry battle on the plasma screen, and Chanyeol couldn’t help but mentally trace the outline of his face in the dimness, to follow its lines until he reached the spot below his mouth where the other boy’s fingers were tangled on the silver chain that dangled from his pierced lip.

“It depends on the skill of the player,” he said, perhaps because he was feeling the need to clarify, or maybe because of the rush of satisfaction that burned his lungs when Baekhyun’s attention focused back on him. “Anyone good enough at M.O.N.S.T.E.R will be good enough at Breaking. The level is always equivalent. It’s just that there’s no many people  _ that _ good.”

Baekhyun’s eyes drifted once more towards the plasma skin. “I see,” he muttered. There were faint traces of a smile on his mouth, the lightest hint of mockery in his voice.

And Chanyeol didn’t know what compelled him to speak, but he found himself turning to face the other man before he could even realize what he was doing. “I would know. I Broke into the central database of the Education Department when I was sixteen.”

That made it. The pleasure of having Baekhyun turn to look at him, eyes wide open and lips parted in genuine surprise was certainly worth it, even if the shock on his face only lasted for a second.

“You did?” he asked, arching his back like a cat before sitting up on the sofa, right hand resting on the back of his seat and head slightly tilted to observe with mischievous curiosity.

“I wanted to get some exam files, so since that department had them, yes, I did,” he explained, with his best attempt at a cool, all-knowing smile. He omitted to say that it all had happened around the time when he had received the only letter he had ever gotten from the Dream Department, and that he had been so sad and angry because of its content that he had turned stupid and reckless. He had Broken into every database in his way, just because he was  _ good enough to do it _ , and hadn’t stopped until the Obelisk police found out and created a file on him as warning. That was when Junmyeon and Jongin had found and recruited him for Team Exodus. So he really hoped Sehun was still 100% online and not listening to him trying to impress a boy that was clearly out of his league, because mentioning how he had spent a whole night trying not to cry in police custody would had certainly killed the mood. “It was much easier that I thought, and I’ve gotten better now. I am the best M.O.N.S.T.E.R player of the whole Dome, so it’s only logical.”

“The very, very best. I know that, remember? I am a fan of yours,” Baekhyun replied, casting his eyes down, then up, voice soft as velvet. “I just thought that you were too much of a good boy to be interested in illegal activities, that’s all.”

Chanyeol swallowed. “Illegal activities are only a problem if you get caught,” he said.

“Ah, so that’s how it is? That’s unexpected. I like it.”

At the other side of the room, one of the IVR helmets beeped, and the blurry landscape on the plasma screen faded into white noise. There was cursing and heavy breathing, then, and Chanyeol reluctantly tore his attention away from a still very amused Baekhyun to focus on the boys on the floor.

Jongdae was the first to come to his senses, falling on his back on the carpet while he tried to take his visor off. Sehun was next, all calm and collected while he unfastened it, followed seconds after by Jongin. They all looked pale and disoriented, like every time the frenzy of M.O.N.S.T.E.R left way to the quietness of the real world.

“You’re back!” Baekhyun then exclaimed, sounding absolutely delighted. “How was it? Did you Break in this time?”

That was the third time that all three of them used the M.O.N.S.T.E.R mod to hack into something. They had succeeded in their two previous attempts, but Jongdae shook his head no that time.

“Ah, we tried, but the site we got in this time was an Obelisk database, and they always have been a pain in the ass.”

“So you failed?”

“Basically,” Sehun admitted. He looked the most shaken of them all now that a few seconds had passed, his face a little green in the semi-darkness. “We got disconnected so fast. The firewall caught us, I guess, but I didn’t have time to see it. They have improved their general level of security.”

“Are you trying to Break in once more?” Chanyeol asked.

“Nah. That’s… interesting, for next time at least, but right now I am exhausted. I hate it when disconnections are so sudden, they make me wanna throw up. I’m going home.”

“Good to know.” Chanyeol sighed. He could feel Baekhyun’s eyes on him again as he got up from the sofa and went to grab his IRV helmets from the floor. Jongdae was the only one of his three guests who actually got up to give it to him in hand.

“What about me?” he asked. “The team?”

That had been his initial purpose when he went out that night, yeah. The team. He had forgotten that he was supposed to test that boy with the rest of them the moment Sehun had decided he wanted to try playing the Breaker first and he had been left in the sofa with Baekhyun.

“I can’t… Give you an answer right now,” he admitted. “My teammates obviously like you, but we didn’t practice together. We should comm each other and play a couple of games in the official server later this week, if you are okay with that?”

“The official server. True.” Jongdae nodded and gave him a friendly pat in the back. “I’m a good choice, you’ll see.”

Baekhyun’s whine of protest came from the sofa. “Oh, come on, are we leaving too? I am not even tired yet.”

“Bad for you, because I need to sleep.”

Shaking his head, Chanyeol left the IVR helmet he normally used in the table close to the screen, heading to his room after that to put the other two older ones away. He had to stop in the doorway to grimace - the place was a mess even for his standards. He had moved there every single thing that had been out of place in the living room when his guests had arrived, including an old box of pizza and the heap of clothes that had been on the sofa since laundry day. He would have to take care of all that before going to bed. Awesome.

“Hey, Team Leader.”

Chanyeol turned around just in time to see Sehun make a face at the chaos on his bed and floor. “You’re leaving now?”

“In a second. I just came to ask if you needed something, but after seeing this… No, man, I’m leaving the cleaning duty to you.”

“Well, thank you for nothing, then,” replied Chanyeol, snorting and walking to his closet to store the visors in. At least, the inside of it was clean and empty - perhaps because all of his belongings were… well, elsewhere. “I thought you at least would have something interesting to say.”

Sehun leaned on the door frame. “I do. I needed you to know that I like Jongdae. He’s a nice guy, and a decent player too.”

“Even though you only saw him Breaking?”

“He’s not at mine or Jongin’s level, but he can learn. And relax a bit, boy, you know that Breaking proves a player’s skill more than the actual M.O.N.S.T.E.R game. You could have seen that Jongdae was actually pretty okay… if you had played with us instead of spending the night, well, you know, being all pouty about the whole Breaking thing while trying to flirt with his friend.”

Chanyeol froze, second helmet still in hand. “I wasn’t--”

“What? Sulking? You were. And making eyes at that boy, too. And I wouldn’t blame you, to be honest, he’s a twelve out of ten, and he was there leaning on you and playing the impressed little thing. He is a  _ fan _ , you know, one of those. He basically said it in your face.”

“I don’t have that kind of fans,” replied Chanyeol. Sehun did, of course. He was the one who make an effort to look like a prince even in the middle of tournaments; the one who looked as good as his M.O.N.S.T.E.R avatar and who organized meetups with his fans once in a while. But him… Everyone knew Ace, and cheered for him in games, but those same people seemed to forget about Chanyeol’s face when the competitive season was over. He had gotten propositions, of course, from overly excited teenage kids who were too young for anything and from ladies older than his mother. Alternative boys in leather jackets had never been a common thing for him, and much less if they were that pretty. “He just came to cheer for Jongdae.”

“And that’s why he didn’t talk to him for the whole night,” Sehun said with a scoff. “He probably asked Jongdae to bring him because he wanted an excuse to talk to  _ you _ .”

“Well. And what do you want me to do with all that info?”

“Didn’t I tell you to loosen up a little? You don’t even have to do any work at all: he’s probably all up for it. He doesn’t look like he wants to leave, so why don’t you ask him to stay? It will probably be your only chance in life to get it on with someone that hot.”

Oh, great. So prince of M.O.N.S.T.E.R Oh Sehun also though Baekhyun was hot - probably because he had eyes on his face, of course. “He has bionic irises,” he tried to argue, probably because that was the best excuse in the world and he was the bravest person ever. And also was tired. “Implants. Like soldiers, or criminals.”

“Or people with sight problems, for example. You didn’t look like you were thinking about soldiers nor criminals when you were ogling him at Black Light, by the way.”

Chanyeol placed his second IVR visor into his closet, then closed the doors and passed by Sehun to walk outside his bedroom. “I am tired,” he whispered. “And definitely not that kind of person. I don’t take advantage of my fans like that.”

“The only thing you are is the biggest idiot I’ve known!” his friend called after him, laughing.

When Chanyeol reached the entry door, praying to the Dream and the Dreamers for Sehun’s shout not to have been loud enough for them to hear, everyone was already there, Jongin and Jongdae talking near his pile of disarranged shoes and Baekhyun supping from his beer, expression pensive. Chanyeol made an effort not to look at him very blatantly - which was hard when he was the most distracting red blur he had ever had in his peripheral vision.

It was easier to focus when Jongin spoke. “Ah, so you two are here. Let’s get going, then.”

“Let’s comm each other for that game, okay?” Jongdae added while Sehun opened the main door. “Your friend has my number, so I’ll be expecting it. By the end of the week?”

“By the end of the week,” Chanyeol agreed. He couldn’t exactly ignore Baekhyun - and it wasn’t like he  _ wanted _ , either - so he turned to him next, halting for a second before speaking to him. “It was nice meeting you.”

“It was,” the other boy smiled at him, as striking as the real-life version of a M.O.N.S.T.E.R avatar, his gesture so genuine that it made him look lovely despite the smudged makeup on his eyes and all the leather and steel he had on him. “It’s a shame all our friends want to leave so soon, though. I didn’t even have time to finish my beer.”

He took a step towards him, then, hand stretched as if to shake his goodbye, and Chanyeol realized he smelled nice. Like something strong, floral.

“Well, you can stay if you like,” he said, before he was able to stop and consider what  _ the hell was he thinking _ . He would have sworn he heard Sehun snorting somewhere to his right, but Baekhyun was simply looking up at him, expression unreadable. “Until you finish it, I mean.”

Baekhyun’s eyes narrowed, then turned mischievous as he chuckled. “I’d love to, if you’d have me.”

Chanyeol didn’t know if he should have felt more brave, proud of himself or just ashamed when Jongdae patted his back once more before going out and gave him a knowing look after wishing him good luck.

\--

“Damn you, Oh Sehun.”

It was his friend’s fault, all of that. If it wasn’t for him, Chanyeol would be playing one last M.O.N.S.T.E.R game to relax, or just surfing the Network or preparing to sleep instead of practically throwing everything that was out of place in his room, heap of dirty clothes and old pizza box included, inside of his closet and hoping the doors would remain closed if Baekhyun was to walk in.

If Sehun hadn’t let the  _ idea _ grow in his mind, he would had been calm and satisfied about how a good fit for the team Jongdae seemed, instead of half freaking out because there was an incredibly attractive boy waiting for him in his living room, and Chanyeol didn’t want him to think he was the kind of untidy loser who wore the same sweater three days in a row or who never made his bed.

Baekhyun had already seen his hoodie, though, and hadn’t shown signs to mind about how worn it was, so perhaps he wasn’t that picky about fashion style or house cleanliness. Chanyeol hesitated, however, looking at his reflection on the mirror before taking it off and leaving it on his desk chair before rushing back to where the other boy was.

He had excused himself and let him alone for almost five minutes, but Baekhyun didn’t look uncomfortable at all. He had opened the balcony doors and was looking at the lights of the Dome building outside, one hand resting on the railing, the fingers of the other still gripping his can of beer.

“You haven’t finished it yet?” Chanyeol asked, and then resisted the urge to cringe because  _ wow, Park, that was suave as hell.  _ With pickup lines like those, Baekhyun probably was thinking that, option one, Chanyeol was low-key throwing him out, or option two, he was awkward or stupid. Or stupidly awkward. The other boy just laughed, however, and turned around to smile at him.

“I can be a very slow drinker,” he said. “Or am I bothering you?”

“I-- No, not really. But isn’t you beer like… not cold anymore?”

“Maybe.” Baekhyun waited in silence for a second, as if he was expecting Chanyeol to say something else, but his eyes flickered to the city lights beyond the window when he did not. “Nice view you have here,” he commented.

Getting close to where he was seemed like a safe enough idea, so that’s what Chanyeol did, leaning on the railing itself. Praised be the Dream, it had stopped raining, and the air was still a little colder than usual, humid. He had never liked rainy nights, but he enjoyed the calm of the Dome after a drizzle - the city never slept, but it seemed to calm down at times like those.

“Well, I live on a 20th floor. I chose this apartment because of the views. I wanted to be able to see the city lights and the Sixth Ward Crossroad, and well, there’s that here, and also the Fifth Avenue further away, if you squint.”

“And the Obelisk in the middle of town,” Baekhyun pointed out.

“Yeah, that too.”

It was hard to miss, the Obelisk, wherever you went. It was in the very center of the city, a silver, needle-shaped building so tall that almost grazed the curved ceiling of the Dome at its highest point. It was as beautiful as it was imposing - the metropolitan center, the symbol of the state, the place where the Dreamers were taken as soon as they awoke. They lived at the top of it, like princesses in one of those towers of Old Era fairytales - dictating everyone else’s lives from the world they saw in their sleep.

“Don’t you hate it?” Baekhyun whispered then, and Chanyeol turned, startled, to look at him.

“Hate what?”

“I don’t know. The Obelisk, maybe? Having to look at it every day? Don’t you mind?”

“Why would I mind?”

“You’re Dreamless.” Baekhyun pronounced the word slowly, like it was obvious. It sounded like a bad thing, when he said it, but it was almost the good kind of bad. “Perhaps most people don’t remember the face of the boy behind your M.O.N.S.T.E.R avatar once the tournament season is over, but all of them  _ know _ that your fate hasn’t been revealed to you yet, and perhaps will never. Not a single letter from the Obelisk. It’s online on the Network everywhere.”

“Well, it’s not like it’s my fault,” Chanyeol started.

Baekhyun shook his head, raising his eyes to meet his. They looked almost metallic, like the moon probably was beyond the glass, like the ceiling of the dome just before dawn started to break. “But it’s interesting. So, so much. There are more Dreamless people in town, hundreds of them, and most just hide. They duck their heads so others won’t know, they try to conceal the fact that Destiny hasn’t given them a purpose: not a job, not a career, probably not the fated partner they should have married either. They are scared of being worthless in a society that has no place for them, but then here are you? With that avatar of yours appearing on the Network and on the news, and the name of your team at the top of the search lists when you win. The most famous Dreamless boy of the Dome, they call you. The nickname itself sounds like an act of rebellion.”

Chanyeol realized too late that he had been holding his breath again. “It’s not like that,” he protested. “You make it sound like I’m some kind of bad boy antihero.”

Baekhyun’s chuckle was almost musical. He moved then, stepped forward so he could raise his free hand and remove Chanyeol’s comm glasses from atop his nose. The back of his fingers grazed his cheek when he did, cool and soft.

“Wha--”

“I thought you would look more the part if I took these off,” he whispered. “But not really. Still too much of a good boy.”

He was so beautiful and he was so close. And Chanyeol thought that that was it - the moment he leaned down and kissed him, when he brought him inside and took him to his room and forgot that he was not the kind of person who did that with fans. In the end it was Baekhyun who did, brushing his lips with Chanyeol’s as soon as the other boy was at his level. The metal ring he wore was cold against his skin and Chanyeol shivered as his own fingers went for Baekhyun’s waist.

“I am still the M.O.N.S.T.E.R champion,” he muttered. “The best player of the Dome.”

He could feel Baekhyun smiling against his mouth. “The one who Broke into an official database when he was sixteen,” he said, just the right amount of breathless. “I am impressed.”

“Well, that’s me,” he replied. The other boy was so warm and felt so good against him that he practically whined when Baekhyun pulled away, just enough to look at him with glinting, silver eyes.

“Show me,” he whispered. And he sounded so demanding, and Chanyeol would have done literally anything to kiss him again.

“Show you what?” he asked, breathless. Baekhyun tilted his head. His smile grew wilder, daring.

“How the very best does it. I want to see - Break in somewhere for me, Ace.”

\--

It was so similar and so different at the same time - logging into a M.O.N.S.T.E.R game and going into Breaker mode.

Both used different versions of the same program, after all. M.O.N.S.T.E.R used random data from the Network to create the maps where the two teams had to fight, immense and fully interactive territories that were different for every game, and that could originate from literally everywhere - an online article, a photo, an encyclopaedia post. That was one of the key points of the game: a M.O.N.S.T.E.R player knew that literally  _ everything alive on the map  _ could try to kill him, but he never knew how the map was going to be, or what in it would attempt to assassinate him. Being the first to kill the enemy team or claim all the checkpoints was a matter of skill, but also of adaptability and luck. It was a bit like playing Russian Roulette - you never knew when the bullet was coming.

The M.O.N.S.T.E.R mod used an illegally modified version of the game to do a similar thing - take data from the Network and create a random map from them, then load a “player” into it. The difference was that the used data was not random - they were access control files, encryption algorithms, security protocols. There was no enemy team when you tried to Break, it was only you against a smaller, more aggressive map. And if you managed to get across it and survive - then you were in, you had succeeded, and you got access to secured files as a reward.

It probably was a very stupid thing to do for fun, and that’s why Chanyeol had stopped to Break regularly, but top M.O.N.S.T.E.R players had never been known for being sensible or for thinking too much about the consequences of their actions. And it wasn’t like he was one to speak, considering that he had just gone into Breaker mode to make a pretty boy all impressed.

Oh, well.

“So I can talk to you?” Baekhyun’s voice said in his ear.

“As long as you don’t remove your headset or walk too far from the computer, yes. I’ve activated the communication system. The image on the plasma should be clear, too, so you can watch.”

“I see you. Why is your character different from usual?”

Chanyeol sighed, blinking to adjust as he started to walk forward. He loved Ace as he was, but his high-school self had redesigned his appearance many times. He had discarded all of them but two: the official M.O.N.S.T.E.R Ace, with his fiery red hair and flashy clothes, and the avatar he used for Breaking - white haired, with headphones over his ears and dressed in full black.

“I can’t exactly hack into official databases using an avatar everyone in town knows, sponsor names on its clothes and all. This is the discrete version,” he explained. “But anyway, I am here. Tell me a name and I’ll get their files for you to check. Want me to use yours?”

It had been Baekhyun’s idea to choose exactly that place to Break into: the General ID Database, where the basic information of every citizen of the Dome was kept. Name, age, place of residence, ID number and Dream status. Criminal record too, maybe. It was of course encrypted, but the security levels weren’t that high as in other Obelisk databases. It was one of the usual places high skilled Breakers use to train. At least Baekhyun hadn’t wanted him to check medical records or bank accounts.

“Not my name, I still want to keep being mysterious for a while longer. Would you allow me that?” The boy laughed in his ear. “Try going for my friend’s name instead? Can that be done?”

“I can do anything,” Chanyeol replied. “Give it to me. Any name.”

“Okay, here you go then - Zhang Yixing.”

The map around him started to go into focus as soon as Chanyeol had commanded that name into his target list. There had been bluish and white mist surrounding his vision, but then everything started to come into focus - grey rocks under his feet, the ruins of a city beyond him and a ceiling of opaque glass above his head. Still no sky beyond, as ever.

But no monsters in sight, yet.

_ Well, this is calm. _

He started to walk towards the wrecked city, energy blaster in hand, sword hanging from his belt. He could feel the coldness of the air on his bones, the shocks of energy radiating from the core of his being towards his skin as he walked, making him feel stronger, faster, more alive. That sensation of power was always there when he loaded his consciousness into his M.O.N.S.T.E.R avatar, but was the strongest when he went into Breaker mode, without the official server there to contain his capabilities and adjust them to the regular game level.

He was there, he was the best and he couldn’t be stopped. He wanted the adrenaline, he wanted to fight, but there was nothing around.

There was a big, empty avenue that crossed the remains of the city and Chanyeol walked down the middle of the street, mind focused and head held high.  _ Ten,  _ he counted.  _ Nine. _

The whole map was in silence, the rhythmical tapping of his boots on the broken concrete the only noise that could be heard above it all, breaking the stillness like footsteps on white snow.  _ Eight. _

“Ace?” Baekhyun called him. He didn’t sound impressed but he would be. Chanyeol knew enough of M.O.N.S.T.E.R to know when to stop to think and trust his instincts instead. And that was what he was doing while he advanced, not too fast, not too slow. The whole map wasn’t big, according to his radar.

_ Seven,  _ one step.  _ Six. _ Another one.  _ Five. _

He heard a noise, so faint that he barely missed it. Stone sliding against stone, debris falling somewhere to his right. It was about to start.  _ Four. _

He closed his eyes, filled his lungs with cold air. The map wasn’t big and he only needed to cross it to win. It was always the same, and he had never failed.

_ Three _ , and his skillset was ready.

_ Two,  _ he focused his vision.

_ One. _

Then  _ Zero. _

Chanyeol knew how to read the signs, and he was prepared when all set into motion. There wasn’t anything one second but all was moving the next, buildings shaking and creatures coming out of every window and door like a freaking stampede. Humanoid things, grey-skinned and dressed in rags, crawling down the walls and on the floor, grunting and screaming at him like they wanted to eat him alive.

“Disgusting,” he whispered.

A creature jumped towards him and Chanyeol shot it in the head. It smelled like rotten meat and cried like a banshee just before the boy blew his head up with an energy shot, but he didn’t even look at it twice. First rule of the Breaker - you didn’t fight, you didn’t let yourself be killed. You won by reaching the other end of the map so you  _ ran. _

And that’s what he did, jumping over debris, dodging every creature that tried to grab him. The security protocol hadn’t been so high so it wasn’t that much of a challenge. He killed another monster the same moment his clawed fingers tried to sink in the skin of his neck, and felt the jolt of electricity that replaced pain when connected to a IVR device.

“Ace!” Baekhyun called him again. All the ruins around him were collapsing, trying to trap him, keep him out as he ran faster, air burning in his throat.

“I’ve got it!” he screamed, because the broken avenue ended and there it was, a rift on the ground, breaking the pavement in two like an open mouth, separating the collapsing city ruins from a misty, empty plain beyond.

He sped up to his limit, gained momentum and jumped, while the creatures screeched at his back. He felt eternal there for a moment, as everything slowed down to slow-motion for the second it took him to land on the other side, the irregular rock floor scraping his hand and knees when he hit the ground, electricity sparking on his skin where the wounds should have been, Hit Point marker decreasing to show the damage taken.

Irrelevant damage, because he was now at the other side of the map.

“ACCESS GRANTED,” a metallic, robotic voice said in his head. “BREAKING SUCCEEDED. RETRIEVING DATA.”

Chanyeol smiled, parting his lips to ask Baekhyun how impressed he was with his performance - and then he turned his head and he saw it, at the same moment an alarm started beeping in his headphones.

“SYSTEM ERROR. PROJECT MORPHEUS PROTOCOL VIOLATION. ACTIVATING CONTAINMENT MEASURES.”

Something was happening in the city ruins. There was something there,  _ something big,  _ coming from behind, advancing onto the remaining buildings and engulfing them like a tidal wave. It looked like a barrier - a barrier of black ice that spread in total, absolute silence - and in more than eight years playing M.O.N.S.T.E.R, Chanyeol had never seen anything even remotely close to that.

“What…?” he whispered. He tried to take a step back, then another, and his right leg moved, but the left one didn’t follow. It was like he was anchored to the floor, trapped in place, and when he looked down he saw shards of black ice climbing up his leg from the frozen ground, crawling up like hard, crystallized vines until they reached his calf, then his knee, then further up. “Initiate disconnection!” he commanded to the system.

His HP marker started to go down, the vitality points of his character going lower and lower. He tried to claw at the ice, to punch it and break it, but the shards sticked to his hand instead, starting to cover his fingers, immobilizing them where they had hit his knee.

“SYSTEM ERROR,” the robotic voice repeated.

Chanyeol looked up. The black ice wave was about to reach the rift on the ground now, and he was supposed to be safe there at the other side of the opening - he  _ had _ cleared the map after all - but he was trapped there and his character was dying. He already could feel the cold, making the skin of his left leg numb, draining every trace of warmth from the air around him. What if the whole wave hit him? Would he be kicked out of the server or…?

“Fuck! Activate emergency disconnection, come on! Take me out of here now.”

The wave was almost on him. The ice had started to creep up his other leg. He clenched his teeth and closed his eyes, bracing himself for the impact. His head spinned, his stomach churned, and he felt a wave of nausea creeping up his throat. He thought that it was it, that the black tsunami was going to break him in pieces, but then his lungs filled with warm, humid air and he felt a familiar pressure around his head.

“Thanks the Dream,” he whispered. “Oh my god.”

He felt so weak, so dizzy, but he recognized the roughness of the carpet under his bare arms, the softness of the silver IVR visor when he managed to sit up on the floor and unsuccessfully reached up to unfasten it. There were fingers on him, first on his shoulder, firm but gentle, then on the the helmet, doing all the work in his place, since his own hands were shaking too much.

Baekhyun’s face was the first thing Chanyeol saw, the traces of his figure outlined against the white noise of the plasma screen, his eyes so grey. He was smiling at him in something akin to reassurance, but his stare seemed too intense.

“Are you okay?” he asked. Chanyeol nodded. “What happened? Did you get the data?”

“What? I-- Maybe it downloaded partially? I don’t know.” The boy tried to breathe. He had never felt as threatened while Breaking before -  _ actually threatened,  _ like something was out to get him instead of trying to kick him out - and he thought he was going to be sick. “There was a black ice wall, and everything was so silent, I-- Didn’t you see?”

“I saw,” Baekhyun said. “Until the plasma went white. Then you were tossing and screaming, and then you woke up.” He moved close, even closer, until he was kneeling between Chanyeol’s legs, forehead against his and one hand caressing his cheek. His body was warm, and Chanyeol grabbed his t-shirt with trembling fingers, just because he needed to hold onto something to not collapse.

“I don’t understand,” he whispered.

“Calm down,” Baekhyun replied. “You Broke in, you did well. I’m impressed.”

“But that ice… It-- The system called all that ‘containment measures.’ Why would there be containment measures in a database as basic as that? It isn’t even high security data, it’s just a general name archive for…” Chanyeol stopped, blinking. His hand moved up and closed around Baekhyun’s wrist. “Wait,” he whispered. “You wanted me to Break. You gave me the name. Why would you…?”

He had half expected the other boy to deny it, but Baekhyun just chuckled. “You were right before, you know? You’re too nice to be a rebellious antihero. Too much of a good boy for your own, well, good.”

“What--” Chanyeol tried to push the other boy away from him but he was too fast, and stronger than he seemed. He looked down just in time to see Baekhyun’s fingers tangling around the silver chain that dangled from his pierced lip, and pulling until it came free.  _ So smoothly,  _ he thought.  _ Magnetic? _ The next thing he knew what that Baekhyun was leaning closer and pressing it against the skin of his neck. He felt the coldness of the steel first just before the spark of electricity came, sending a current of white pain under his skin and making him scream out loud.

“Sorry about that,” Baekhyun said, moving backwards to stand up. Chanyeol would have liked to follow, but his body wasn’t responding and he felt himself fall until he was looking at the other boy with wide, round eyes, gaping like a fish out of water. “It has just been a tiny electric shock, you know, to keep you calm and quiet, but I promise you'll be fine tomorrow, Ace. Sorry about the ice thing too. I didn’t know that all that was gonna happen, but I am a man with a mission. Don’t hate me too much.”

“Who…?” Chanyeol started. He couldn’t speak, he couldn’t even think. He was losing consciousness, drifting into blackness in real life, this time. “Who are…?”

“Me? I have a confession to make. I lied when I said I was a fan of yours,” Baekhyun told him, giving him the cheekiest of smiles. “But don’t take all this to heart. It’s just that, you know, I needed someone for a job and you were the best at it. Take it as something to be proud of.”


	3. Login 02

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the little delay on this one. My computer kinda dies on me u__u I hope you all enjoy it :D

**Login 02**

“Wow, boy, you really  _ do _ look like shit.”

Chanyeol decided he still had enough dignity to snort, and he did so as soon as he had thrown himself on the unmade bed where he had spent the whole morning. “How do you want me to look like?” he replied, sinking his face in the pillow. “I was seduced, deceived and electroshocked by the stranger you wanted me to hook up with.”

Sehun was looking at him with his perfectly trimmed eyebrows raised, Chanyeol could tell. “Me? It’s not like I forced you, you know? You were looking at him with big, shiny eyes since the moment he came in. There was no way I could have known he was into electroshocking people into unconsciousness. I guess I could have suspected there was something fishy when a boy as pretty as that one started hitting on you all of a sudden, but…”

“Wow, thank you, Sehun.”

“I didn’t mean it like that.” Chanyeol looked up from his pit of misery just in time to see his best friend frowning at him, mildly concerned. “You could be almost as good looking as me if you did something about your hair and wore decent clothes. Look at your sleeves, they have holes as big as my thumb! But what I’m trying to say is... That boy was fine as hell and the only thing he did from the moment he crossed the door of that bar was… Well, very blatantly trying to do  _ you _ ?”

“Good to know that I could had seen through his trick if my hair had been correctly styled. I’ll keep it in mind  for the next time.”

“Didn’t you realize he was up to no good when he asked you to Break and search for his friend’s name out of the blue?”

“It wasn’t out of the blue, he was actually very convincing, okay?” Chanyeol sighed. “And I’m probably too stupid for my own good.”

“Nah, you’re not. And now stop moping and get out of bed,” Sehun argued, walking towards the closed doors of his bedroom closet. “I thought you had told me to skip work and come here because you wanted me to help with all this issue. So get yourself into a clean, new sweater and let’s move to your computer.”

There was something about his wardrobe that Chanyeol couldn’t quite recall, and he watched his friend trying to open the door while he sighed and sat up on the mattress.

“Why is this thing stuck?” Sehun was asking, and the boy blinked in surprise.

“I don’t know,” he started to say. Then he remembered the night before and almost jumped off his bed. “Wait, wait, wait, don’t open it!”

But it was too late: his friend had already pulled the door towards himself and it had fallen open. There was silence for a moment - a fraction of a second, the thump of a heartbeat - and a mountain of disarranged personal belongings was suddenly falling onto Sehun, who fell on his ass while he screamed and tried to cover his face with his arms.

“What the hell, Park,” he exclaimed. Chanyeol’s old box of pizza had hit him in the head, and now his hair was full of greasy, cheese-smelling crumbs.

“I told you not to do that! It was an emergency, I had to hide my stuff somewhere.”

“So you just threw your trash inside the closet?”

“It was either that or hiding it all under my bed! I had to make a decision!”

“You could tidy your room on a regular basis,” Sehun scoffed while Chanyeol crouched beside him and tried - and kind of failed - to remove the pizza crust crumbs from his hair with an apologetic smile. “You are almost worse than Junmyeon, and his whole apartment is practically a dumpster.”

“You’re saying that because of job conditioning.” Chanyeol tried his best apologetic smile. “But hey, I promise I’ll clean. Thanks for skipping work for me.”

Sehun’s annoyed expression didn’t change, but his eyes softened a bit. “At least you look happier now than when I came in. It almost makes up for all your things attempting to murder me,” he said. He got up, then, throwing a sweater that had fallen to his lap to Chanyeol’s hands. “But let’s move on now, okay? We need to start checking what the hell that Prince Charming of yours did to your computer while you were too busy playing electroshocked Sleeping Beauty.”

\--

“So the name was Baekhyun,” Sehun said, IVR visor covering half of his face and hands on Chanyeol’s keyboard. “Byun Baekhyun. I got it right, huh?”

Chanyeol had brought one of the kitchen chairs to the living room and was sitting beside Sehun, carefully holding his comm glasses in his hands. They were broken, one of the lenses completely cracked, and he sighed as he slipped them into one of his sweater pockets. He had spent more than half of his M.O.N.S.T.E.R tournament prize on those glasses, and now they looked like someone had stepped on them. Probably because that was what Baekhyun had done on his way out.

“That was the name he gave us, yes, but we can’t be sure that he’s called like that for real. All of his being looked very… illegal, you know? He could have been lying,” he said, fingers going up to his neck. He had a purple bruise there, in the place where Baekhyun had held his piercing chain against his skin. “Besides, you shouldn’t be Breaking. I tried to get into that same database yesterday night and look at what happened to me. You don’t want that black ice thing attacking you, too.”

When he had woken up, confused, in pain and alone at the break of dawn, Chanyeol had thought it all had been a nightmare. His computer had been on, however, and his IVR helmet  tossed on the floor beside him, still connected to the system, beeping softly next to his ear. He was almost certain that he had managed to download  _ something _ from the ID database before the ice had appeared, but there was nothing in his computer when he got up and checked. The only thing left was his Breaker mode private log, with one last connection as a final reminder of how real everything that had happened the previous night had been.

“You’re telling me that like ten minutes too late. I already Broke into the ID database and got all they’ve got on Byun Baekhyun. Kim Jongdae, also,” Sehun replied, voice sending Chanyeol back into reality. “There was no ice at all, no extra security of any kind. It was as easy as ever.”

“So am I the only unlucky one?”

“I’d guess so.” Sehun unfastened the IVR visor and removed it, taking a deep, long breath of fresh air before blinking to bring the big plasma screen into focus. Chanyeol’s desktop was showing there, a promotional image of Ace set as wallpaper. “But let’s check what I got. Perhaps we’ll get their addresses or a working telephone number to track. I tried to comm Jongdae to the one he was using yesterday, but the line is dead.”

Chanyeol shook his head. “I don’t like this.”

There was silence as Sehun clicked around, then a faint laughter as a file opened in fullscreen mode. “Wow, take a look at that. What a cute kid he was.”

Official ID profiles in the Dome looked all the same: name, ID number and date of birth; current place of residence, Dream status and a recent photo. Criminal record if there was one. Baekhyun’s file followed the same format, but the image on the upper left corner was different from the boy Chanyeol remembered, with his daring smirk, long, black bangs and pierced skin - no doubt it was the same person but he looked much younger: a high school student in his pristine uniform, smiling oh-so-warmly for the camera.

“When was this photo taken? Wait, he’s my age?” Chanyeol’s eyes traveled from the official ID image to his birthdate, then froze at the line of red text that was written next to it. It couldn’t be. “Hey, hey, hey, he’s  _ dead?” _

“He didn’t look very dead the last time I saw him, if you ask me. Was his skin cold when he kissed you, though? Electroshocks  _ and _ necrophilia, huh, Park? That’s gross. I didn’t know you were into the wrong kind of kinks.”

“I’m not into-- Can you stop being disgusting?” Chanyeol pointed at the screen, trying to distract his friend from the fact that the tip of his ears were starting to burn. “Look at what his file says, will you? Byun Baekhyun, born in Dream Year 2192.  _ Deceased _ in Dream Year 2208, aged 16. So according to this he’s been dead for seven whole years?”

“Officially dead, at least,” Sehun agreed, frowning. “That  _ is _ weird.”

“He doesn’t have a criminal record. There’s no cause of death either. He’s just marked as deceased.”

“Wait, let me check Kim Jongdae.” Sehun closed Baekhyun’s file, opened the second folder he had obtained. Jongdae’s ID photo smiled at them from the corner of the screen, much more recent than the other boy’s, but still a bit too outdated. “There it is. Birth year is also the same as yours, but this one was registered as demised a year ago. He used to have a Dream assigned job and all, as a computer engineer. Very promising until he kicked the bucket.”

Chanyeol swallowed, praying for the lump in his throat to go away. “So they deceived us, both of them? So I would Break for them and find information on that Yixing person? The same information I apparently downloaded and they stole?” It seemed kind of obvious as things were right now, but a part of Chanyeol still found it hard to believe. He had given them what they wanted without suspecting a thing. Forum visitors should change his nickname from the most famous Dreamless boy of the Dome to  _ the most naïve kid ever born. _ “I should have seen it coming. Jongdae also seemed too good to be true.”

“Do you want me to try Breaking again? I could try my luck with the Zhang Yixing boy.”

“No,” Chanyeol replied. “Remember the ice? Don’t risk it. I just… I think we should try something else.”

Sehun released the mouse and turned his head to stare at him. He looked like he knew exactly what his friend was going to say, but asked anyway, his expression neutral. “Try what?”

The clock on the corner of the computer screen marked 3PM, and Chanyeol decided to focus on the fact that it already was too late for his day to take a turn for the worse. “We are still within working hours, right? So I say we go to the Dream Research Office. Junmyeon should still be there.”

\--

It was almost impossible to get lost in the main Wards of the Dome. The whole city had been built for convenience: an immense, wheel-shaped metropolis that took up all the space under the opaque glass vault that kept them safe from external threats. The main avenues were straight and broad, parallel to one another like radius drawn on a circle, all of them born from the Obelisk Square in the center until they reached their end close to the Dome walls. The Wards were between them, numbered from First to Fourteenth, easy to cross and easy to find.

Chanyeol had never been to Junmyeon’s workplace before, but he didn’t even need to check the city map on his comm to know which subway to take, or where to stop. Praised be the Dream for that, because his comm glasses were still pretty much broken - the screen so cracked that it didn’t even light up when he tried them on. He had received a call while on the train, so the phone functions were at least still working, but talking on one’s comm was forbidden in public transport, and there had been no human way to return the call once he had been outside the train.

“I can’t see the caller’s ID if I don’t have a  _ screen, _ ” he complained, following Sehun down the First Ward Avenue. They were in the middle of the financial district, and he felt utterly underdressed for the second time in 48 hours. “I bought these with my hard work and they haven’t even lasted me half a year.”

“Well, we already established that you had a very unlucky hours yesterday night, so don’t dwell on it. You looked like an idiot in those on anyway.” Sehun shrugged, completely nonchalant, and Chanyeol was about to call him on his general tactlessness when he stopped walking, tilting his head up to observe the tall building before them. “We’re here.”

Government people loved all their offices to look exactly the same - all tall and elegant and silver, like skyscraper versions of the Obelisk in the middle of town. Silvery grey was their color, cold and aseptic like steel, stainless like the forces of the Dream they represented. Chanyeol had always thought it suited their view of Destiny - threads of Fate that fitted perfectly together like pieces of clockwork, in greyscale instead of Old Era red.

Sehun didn’t spare the building a second glance and just rushed up the white stone stairs that led to the main entrance. He looked like he belonged there, pretty much walking towards the information desk like he was the son of the President himself, and not only a trash department employee. He didn’t seem impressed by the tall white ceiling, or by the way the marble floor was so polished that Chanyeol almost could see his face reflected on it.

“We came to visit a friend. Important, personal matter,” he told to the receptionist, a young, blonde woman in a silver and white Obelisk uniform. “Could we go up to his office for a moment?”

“Name and department?” the girl inquired.

“Kim Junmyeon, Dream Research Office.”

“Understood. Wait a second, please, while I issue your visitor passes.” Sehun nodded, resting his hand on the counter, while Chanyeol observed the people going up and down the lobby. There was a silver Government Building in every Ward, and all of them hosted multiple departments, so uniformed policemen were waiting alongside salarymen in suits and Research Department employees in white coats for their turn to take the elevators up. “There you go,” the receptionist said again, handing them two plastic visitor passes as she smiled. “Kim Junmyeon’s office is in Dream Research, as you know. 24th floor on the elevator in front of you. Have a good day, and may the Dream guide you.”

Sehun moved first, walking towards the other end of the room with Chanyeol in tow. There seemed to be some kind of order in the way people from the different departments stepped into the elevators, so they waited until the end to walk in, standing the closest to the doors as they finally closed behind them. There was faint a faint piano melody coming from somewhere on the ceiling, a soft tune that was probably meant to be relaxing but that got abruptly cut every time the doors opened for a stop and a calm, female voice announced what floor they were in.

It didn’t take them long to reach their destination. The 24th and 25th floors were especially dedicated to the Dream Research Office, and looked much more… normal than how Chanyeol had thought they would. He had expected opulence, perhaps, white marble and Dream-related holograms and posters, but what he found as he advanced through the corridors were pale grey walls and a black carpeted floor, wood and glass desks in cubicles and the sound of a telephone ringing somewhere to his right.

“Hey, Sehun! Chanyeol!”

Kim Junmyeon was waving at them from an opaque glass door. He looked as prim and proper as ever, official Government uniform perfectly pressed and all buttoned up and dark hair combed to the side. He looked better than most in white and silver, like he was born for it. As he probably had been.

“Hey,” Sehun replied. “How is it going? Very busy?”

“As ever. We don’t have that many free time here, but I’m handling. Not that you care, since you came to see me before calling beforehand.”

He didn’t look angry and Sehun knew, because he smiled at him while he crossed the glass doors into a small, windowless study. “I don’t need to call, you love me the most,” he said. “And besides, it was Chanyeol’s idea.”

“Really?”

“Well, I know it’s kind of urgent, but I need your help with something.” Chanyeol followed his friends and closed the doors behind him. The room was too narrow, with barely space for the most disorganized desk the boy had ever seen and a couple of chairs in front of it. He sat on one, trying to guess how to voice his concerns to make them appear more… user-friendly. “Can conversations be heard from outside your office?” he asked, then continued when Junmyeon shook his head. “I, um… The thing is someone stole information from my computer.”

Junmyeon furrowed his brow. “What? Were you hacked?”

“He met a cute boy at Black Light. The pretty little thing convinced him to go into Breaker mode and get him confidential info, then knocked him unconscious, took the data Chanyeol had managed to download and disappeared with it,” Sehun explained, face neutral as if he was explaining some very uninteresting news he had seen on TV. “We checked his ID in the Government Database, but both he and the friend he was with were listed as deceased.”

Junmyeon turned to Chanyeol, eyebrows raised. “What in the world were you thinking? You were Breaking? Really?”

“Like this was completely my fault! It was Sehun and Jongin who brought that boy and his friend for our M.O.N.S.T.E.R team interviews! How was I supposed to know that he was out to get me? Besides, the place he wanted me to Break in and the information he asked me to look for were so…  _ normal.  _ Just a name in the ID Database. It didn’t look like a big deal until everything started going wrong.”

Junmyeon walked to the chair behind his desk and sat on it, massaging his temples with his fingers. “Define  _ going wrong _ ,” he muttered. “You have just said you needed my help, right? What is really worrying you?”

It was at times like this when Chanyeol would have been thankful for Sehun cooperating, but his friend just leaned against the wall, checking the closed glass doors out of the corner of his eyes. And Chanyeol guessed it was okay - he had told his best friend what had happened but Sehun hadn’t been there: he knew but he couldn’t  _ understand. _

“I was asked to look for a name,” he whispered. “And you know how all that goes. Security in the ID Database is not especially high so I just had to go into Breaker mode, clear the map, grab the info and log out, but… Something weird happened when I started to download the data. I had already Broken in, but there was an alarm. Containment measures got activated because I apparently violated the security protocols of something called Project Morpheus. And, believe me, I’ve never seen containment measures like  _ those. _ ”

Junmyeon pursed his lips. “Were they high security?”

“They were  _ more _ than high security. There was black ice, like a wave of it, coming for me and trapping me in place. Everything was so… cold and so silent, and that thing kept getting closer like it was alive. I managed to disconnect before it reached me, but it was scary. I had never seen something like that before, and I’m sure as hell I don’t want to see it again.”

“You said you were given a name to look for?” asked Junmyeon after a pause. “Do you remember it?”

“I do. It was Zhang Yixing.”

His friend nodded, then typed something on his keyboard and waited. Chanyeol could be many things, but he had never been known for being especially patient so he got up and circled the desk until he was standing just behind Junmyeon. He arrived just in time to see a message appearing on his screen in big, red letters.

“Data not found?” he whispered, disconcerted.

“There’s no one by the name of Zhang Yixing in the ID Database,” Junmyeon replied, starting to type something else without looking at him. “And if there is, I don’t have access to it with my username and password. There’s nothing on Project Morpheus either. And I  _ am _ a Government official, Chanyeol, so if I can’t even check what that data is all about, it means that this whole thing is either highly confidential or very illegal. Do you understand what I am trying to say?”

Chanyeol nodded, feeling a cold knot of fear somewhere in his throat. “I am the best at what I do,” he said, maybe to reassure Junmyeon or perhaps because he also needed self-convincing. He hid his hands in his sweater pockets and felt his comm glasses faintly buzzing; probably the landlady trying to phone him, since he was late for rent that month. One more problem to add to his list, but it wasn’t like he had time for that now, so he ignored the call and went on. “You know I don’t leave traces when I Break.”

“You got caught once, when you were in high school. And you might think that it doesn’t matter, but you already have one stain on your criminal record. I know Jongin and Sehun Break for fun much more than you do, but Sehunnie’s clean and Jongin’s sister is a Dreamer. The Obelisk will look the other way when it comes to his mistakes because he has sacred blood in his veins, but you? You don’t have that kind of protection.”

“I just-- I know that, but I wasn’t expecting all this to happen!”

Junmyeon bit his lip. “Give me your boy’s name. I’ll look him up too, just to be sure.”

He technically wasn’t  _ his boy _ , but Chanyeol decided not to specify. Things usually turned out better when he kept quiet. “It’s Byun Baekhyun. His friend was called Kim Jongdae, if they weren’t lying.”

The screen changed again, to a familiar ID profile: the same happy high schooler, smiling for the camera in his uniform, with the same red text close to this birthdate claiming he had been dead for seven years. Jongdae’s profile was also the same they had retrieved at Chanyeol’s house.

“This is--” Junmyeon started. “Are you sure they didn’t give you fake names?”

“Jongdae’s photo is only one year old, he looked practically the same yesterday. And about Baekhyun… Either he  _ is _ that same boy on the photo or that deceased kid had an emo, evil twin. The only thing that’s different are the eyes.”

“He has no family listed on the database,” Junmyeon confirmed after a couple of seconds. “But his eyes. What about his eyes?”

“His irises were synthetic. Very grey.”

“Is that so.” Junmyeon paused for a while, and then minimized the ID database window, typing the command to open something else. “Let me try at the Health Department database if he’s wearing implants. You know eye prosthetics are all registered and color-coded - blue for the Dome police, red for the army and usually brown or black for the few civilians who need the surgery for some reason. Grey is not very common, so let’s check how many people from… let’s say, eighteen to twenty-eight years old are listed with implants that color.”

The screen turned white for a second, then blinked before a single name appeared. A woman of twenty-seven, who apparently lived in the Tenth Ward and had taken the surgery two years ago due to premature sight problems. The face that appeared on the screen when Junmyeon looked her ID out couldn’t be more different than Baekhyun’s.

“I really don’t think they are related,” Chanyeol whispered. He could feel his comm glasses buzzing in his pocket again, and he rejected the incoming call once more. “There is not anyone else? Are grey irises really that unpopular?”

“Well, they were a little too intense,” Sehun said. “I’m not sure I would like implants that color if I lost my real eyes.”

Chanyeol would have to agree with that. Baekhyun’s eyes had looked too… metallic under the moonlight. Too disconcerting, like the boy himself. “The important thing here is that he’s not in the database,” he concluded. “There’s no… trace of him since he was marked as deceased seven years ago. So what does that mean?”

“That you made out with a criminal?” Sehun grinned at him.  “Or with a ghost. Either way, this has to be your greatest achievement so far in the romance department.”

“Could you please stop mocking me?”

“Sehun is right, though,” Junmyeon said. Chanyeol could feel his mouth falling open in surprise.

“What? I thought we had established that Sehun was never right, and much less when he’s laughing at my misery!”

“That’s not what I meant. It’s not okay to laugh at you but that boy is certainly a ghost. And might be a criminal, too. This is not good.”

Chanyeol bit his lip. “I know.”

Junmyeon blocked his computer and stood up, his expression stern. “What have you gotten yourself into?” he asked, and Chanyeol swallowed.

“I have no idea,” he tried to defend himself. “Look, everything I wanted was to interview some people for the team and--” his comm glasses started to buzz against his fingers one more and he clicked his tongue and pulled them out, grabbing them like they were some kind of annoying insect. “What’s wrong with this thing?” he muttered, and Junmyeon crossed his arms over his chest.

“Who’s calling?”

“I don’t know, the Byun boy broke my screen. It’s probably my landlady, though. Whoever it is has been calling all day and she’s the only person I know who’s this obnoxious.”

“And you aren’t going to reply? It might be important.”

The last thing he wanted was to hear a speech on how he would be thrown out if he didn’t pay his rent on time  _ again _ , but Junmyeon giving him the annoyed mother look was even worse as an option. So he decided not to remind him that he had more important problems threatening to bite him in the ass and he slid the glasses onto his nose and received the incoming call.

“Mrs. Kim?” he started. “Look, I am a bit busy right now, so if you don’t mind calling later, I’ll--”

The voice that interrupted him wasn’t Mrs. Kim loud screech, however. It was lower, calm, commanding, and very obviously male. “Park Chanyeol?”

It took a second for the boy to answer. “It’s me.”

“The signal of your ID chip locates you in the First Ward Government Building, is that correct?” the voice asked, and then continued before the boy had a single chance to ask what was going on. “I speak on behalf of the General Dream Department. Your presence is immediately requested in the second basement floor of the building you are currently in. Please, proceed there at once.”

“Wait, I-- What for?” he muttered. He could feel Junmyeon staring at him, he heard Sehun asking if everything was okay, but he couldn’t reply. His heart was thumping hard in his chest again, like the loud, rhythmic beats of a drum. The next words the voice said barely registered in his brain.

“The Obelisk must congratulate you. The Dreamers have witnessed your fate in their slumber. Your Destiny has been revealed to them, and it is our duty to pass it on to you. Please, proceed to the second basement floor immediately so you can be informed.”

“But--”

“Is it understood?”

“I-- Yes.”

The voice at the other side of the line hummed in approval, and his comm beeped before the communication was cut and he was left there, one hand trying to remove his glasses, the other supporting his weight on the wall.

“What’s wrong?” Sehun asked. He sounded truly concerned for once in his life, and Chanyeol didn’t know if that was a good sign or an utterly bad one. “You look so pale. Who was it?”

He shook his head. “It was the Obelisk guys,” he said. The news had been pretty clear, but still he didn’t understand. “Apparently, I am no longer Dreamless.”

Sehun’s hand soon was on his shoulder. “They wanted to tell you that you got the letter?”

“They want me to meet the officer in charge in the second basement floor in this building. Apparently they want to tell me personally.”

“But that is…” Sehun started to reply. He fell silent, however, as soon as his gaze met Junmyeon’s. Both of them looked so puzzled, and Chanyeol felt the cold claws of uncertainty in the pit of his stomach. Being informed of one’s Destiny had always been good news, especially for those who remained Dreamless at his age, but he wasn’t sure about all that.

“Should I go?” he whispered.

“What do you mean with ‘should I go’? Of course you go!” Junmyeon exclaimed, alarmed. He probably saw Chanyeol flinch, because he softened his tone, like he always did when they were younger. “The Dream Department requested you, Chanyeol.”

“But… Precisely today?” the boy insisted.

“I’ll go with you.”

It was not like he had many other options, and he was perfectly aware of the fact as he followed Junmyeon outside of his office and all the way to the elevator. There was no one inside this time, no workers dressed in silver or researchers in white lab coats, only them and the faint piano music that came through the speakers. Chanyeol inhaled when he saw the elevator go past the first floor, and fought the urge to hide under the hood of his sweater when the doors opened onto the second basement floor with a melodious clink.

Everything there looked… ordinary, with the same pale grey walls and black flooring of Junmyeon’s floor, but instead of big, crowded rooms, there was a single corridor there, leading to the desk where two men waited.

One of them was tall, even more than he was, with hair so fair it almost looked colorless and a strict, stern face. He was dressed like a high-ranked army officer, with a long coat, leather gloves and combat boots, all in white. The way he looked at him almost made Chanyeol stop in his tracks, and perhaps he would had, had not the other stranger spoken to him first.

“Ah, you’ve come. Wonderful, wonderful. You were fast,” he said. He was black haired and pale, that one, with the friendliest of smiles lighting up a face as delicate as a doll’s.

“Doctor Lu?” Junmyeon called from behind him, and Chanyeol realized that the other man, in fact, was wearing a white lab coat over what looked like a black Obelisk uniform.

Only heads of departments wore black.

“Ah, you are Junmyeon, right? You work here,” he said. “Are you friends with Mr. Park?”

“We’ve been since high school, sir. I was with him when he got summoned, so I was just showing him the way. We heard his Destiny was revealed to the Dreamers?”

“Ah, yes, yes.” Doctor Lu looked so happy, but Chanyeol’s eyes couldn’t leave the other man. The stranger was so focused in studying him, evaluating each movement, every intake of breath, and the boy had to fight the irrational impulse to run. Perhaps his instincts were on overdrive after what had happened those days and he was simply overreacting, but he felt as trapped as in the M.O.N.S.T.E.R map last night, when had seen the wall of black ice moving towards him. He didn’t even realize that Doctor Lu had spoken to him again until he felt everyone’s eyes on him. “Don’t you want to know?” he heard him repeat. “Aren’t you excited? This is the greatest moment of your life! The true Destiny the Dreamers saw for you in their vision.”

Chanyeol rose his head. He didn’t want to ask. “It must be a great honor if a head of department is here to tell me in person,” he finally said. His mother would have probably scolded him. What an impertinent kid, she would had said. She had gotten so angry too, when he had gotten caught after Breaking for his exam files.

“Oh, it is a great honor, indeed,” Doctor Lu said. He was smiling so warmly, so kindly, but there was amusement in his eyes, hardness in the corners of his mouth. And there it was, his own personal black ice, falling all over him. “You will be sent to the wastelands outside of the Dome to defend your hometown as part of the army. Aren’t you proud?”

Chanyeol felt all the blood drain for his face. “What?” he whispered. It couldn’t be. He was too old to be sent there. He was anything but a soldier. They couldn’t do that.

“But… the army?” Sehun muttered behind him. His hand had been on Chanyeol’s shoulder, but it fell to his side after he spoke.

“That is what I said!” Doctor Lu confirmed. “So, Park Chanyeol, do you want to say your farewells now? Because starting this moment, you are under our custody.”

\--

Being selected for the army had always been a great honor, or so the Obelisk said. The world beyond the Dome was dangerous: the wars with other state-cities constant, the air so toxic that it would eventually kill anyone who dared to stay out of their safe glass walls for too long. The Dream had guided their ancestors into building the Dome for protection before the Great Catastrophe arrived, and it was the Dream itself who chose the soldiers who would defend it. The boldest, the bravest, the most selfless - officials who protected the Obelisk from the inside and kids who were sent outside, heavy military prosthetics on their arms, legs and faces. Those never, ever returned.

Brave, young men and women, Chanyeol thought. The loudest in their high school classes, the most idealistic or the most problematic. The ones who fought and who got into trouble, and who were most happy when trouble found them.  _ That’s how our Dream gives an use to the problematic ones _ , his mother used to say. He wondered how she would react when she learned that her son had been taken away as well, with no chance to pack his things or to say goodbye to her.

Soldiers were given that much, all of them. A last week of freedom before the training started, so they could leave for their honorable mission with their spirits high. Criminals were not, he guessed, but at least they got a trial. The only thing he had been granted before he was taken away was a last alarmed look to Sehun and Junmyeon and a rushed ‘please, tell my family.’

Then, he was taken away and stripped of his personal belongings before being left alone in a very white, very empty room. The only traces of color were the dark metal table and chairs in the middle of the place, and the faded red of his hair, reflected in the mirror of the wall. Even his clothes were white and grey now - a silver official uniform, the one that cadets wore, perhaps, or maybe convicts.

He had been taken to an interrogation room before, when he was sixteen and careless and very angry, but that time at least he had been able to keep his own clothes. And he remembered the wait, the constant sensation of being observed, but back then he had been too furious to feel anxious, too done with that city and their fixed concept of  _ Fate _ to realize that he had been in serious trouble. He had gotten away with it in the end, six years ago, but there he was once more, dressed in funerary white and all alone.

Maybe the Obelisk guys were right after all and  _ that _ was his destiny. Which was funny, because he didn’t even know what he had done to deserve such a punishment.

“Park Chanyeol,” a voice called him, and he turned his head right to face the door. It had opened, silent as a shadow, and the tall army officer in the long, white coat was heading in, nodding at him before he took the chair at the other side of the table. He barely made any sound at all, his movements silent and fluid as mist after the rain. There was an instinct somewhere deep inside Chanyeol that compelled him to bow his head, to whimper and shake and wait for his orders like a tamed, scared animal, but he fought the urge and looked up. “I hope you’ve been comfortable while you waited?”

It wasn’t a question out of concern, so the boy didn’t bother to reply. He tried to command his voice into steadiness when he spoke. “Why am I here? This has to be some kind of mistake, I am too old for--”

“I am Commander Wu, of the Dome army,” the other man interrupted him, his expression unreadable. “I have seen your M.O.N.S.T.E.R games as Ace. Quite an impressive performance, I have to say. It’s truly a pity that someone with such outstanding abilities has to abandon his career after just reaching the top of the wave, but the threads of the Dream are always unpredictable. Wouldn’t you agree?”

“I--” Chanyeol started, but the words he wanted to say got lost in the cobweb of fear lacing his throat and he could only nod. “I guess. Yes.”

“I am your immediate superior from now on, boy.”

“But I-- Yes, sir.”

“That’s better.” Commander Wu’s lips curved upward for the first time since he had arrived, in a faint, conceited kind of smile that made Chanyeol’s fingers twitch where they rested on the table. “Basic respect and obedience are the keys for a working society. Each of us have a Destiny that we have to fulfill, as foretold by the Dream and its Dreamers. I have mine, you have yours. All the paths you take in your life will lead you inexorably to it, and us Government Officials are here to ensure that every individual in this city finds their fate more sooner than late.”

“I know,” Chanyeol whispered, “Sir.”

“Do you? And do you serve the Dream, as wholeheartedly as I do? As we all should?”

“Why wouldn’t I?” The sight of the Obelisk in the center of town and what it represented made him angry sometimes, but the Dream was also convenient. Perhaps he had never been a faithful believer, but he had accepted to live by the rules. “The Dream is the Dream. It had always been there.”

“So you wouldn’t lie to me and oppose it.”

“Of course I would not-- What?”

Commander Wu had brought a white briefcase with him, a small thing that he placed on the table between them, unhurriedly. He didn’t take off his gloves to open it, or while he placed the contents where Chanyeol could see them. They were only photos, dark and blurry, taken at night from what it looked like a security camera somewhere in the Fourth or Fifth Wards.

“What is this?” he muttered.

The silhouettes in the photos were barely recognizable, but Chanyeol was familiar enough with the scene to know. There was Sehun in his fancy clothes, Jongin in his leather jacket, Jongdae and then Baekhyun, a red blur looking up at a tall, lanky figure in black as he walked. He knew the place too. He knew the time.

“This was taken outside of a club named Black Light last night,” Commander Wu confirmed. “We tracked your ID and we are certain that this is you with your friends, soldier Park.”

Chanyeol was starting to understand, his mind working too fast, and he wasn’t sure he  _ wanted _ to. “We were just having fun.”

“I am sure of that.” Commander Wu pointed at one of the figures in the photo. Baekhyun, Because it obviously had to be him. “What do you know about this man? Is he a friend of yours? An acquaintance, perhaps?”

“Who, Baekhyun? No! I met him at the club! We had to meet his friend to interview him for a place in our M.O.N.S.T.E.R team and he just tagged along. Uninvited.”

“And what did you do with him? Did he…  _ tag along  _ for a very long time?”

Chanyeol was starting to feel blind and deaf, like Commander Wu was trying to dig a secret out of him when he already had all the answers, and Chanyeol himself held none. “He came to my apartment with the others, but left after them.”

“And?”

“I… Pardon me, but isn’t what I do at my own home private?”

“It is,” Commander Wu replied. He looked so impassible, his expression stolid, but his gaze hungry. “However, soldier Park, hiding information about wanted terrorists it’s not what a good Dome citizen would do.”

“ _ What?” _

“Byun Baekhyun, aged twenty-three. Goes by the codename Sigma, wanted for treason against the Dream, acts of terrorism and murder. Sounds familiar?”

“No!” Chanyeol tried to gather his thoughts and say something,  _ anything. _ The memories were spinning in his head - Baekhyun kissing him, his high-school photo in his ID profile, the black ice falling on him when he was on Breaker mode. “Is all this because of the database? I… Sir, I have to admit I Broke into a government base while that boy was with me, but he deceived me! The last thing on my mind was to help a terrorist, I would never--”

Commander Wu didn’t move, didn’t speak until Chanyeol’s explanations faded into silence. Only then he parted his lips, distractedly tapping his finger on Baekhyun’s figure in the photo. “The thing is, Park Chanyeol, that you managed to overcome our highest security measures to gain access to confidential information. As I said before, your ability within that M.O.N.S.T.E.R game is outstanding. Truly so.”

Chanyeol shivered on his chair. “Security measures? You mean the black ice? What the hell was that?”

“Something meant to eliminate threats. And something that obviously didn’t eliminate  _ you _ . And now I know, and Sigma knows. And we can’t allow that, now do we?”

He had spoken calmly, as if he was talking about the weather, or the last trendy show on TV, and Chanyeol understood then that Commander Wu did not  _ care _ . Not about him, nor about what he had to say. He had been taken into that room to be interrogated, but his answers had never mattered. The sugar-coated speech his family would receive from the Obelisk would speak of honor and sacrifice, but the meaning beyond reeked of punishment.

“So this is what it is?” he asked, his voice shaking. It had started as a whisper but it grew louder, bolder, with every word. “The blue ice didn’t get me, so you are taking care of me instead, isn’t that it? By sending me out of the city to die without the chance of even saying goodbye. And all of this... Why? Because I was deceived by a boy at a bar and saw something you didn’t want me to see? Maybe that Sigma person was a terrorist, but the last thing on my mind was to help him. And even though, even if what I did was a crime, don’t I get a trial? You are silencing me, and I thought every citizen deserved--”

“Ah, but we are not silencing you,” a new voice said, and Chanyeol looked towards the door just in time to see Doctor Lu walk in. There was a kind smile on his lips and cheerfulness in his words, but his joviality was deceitful, just the ripples on the surface of something he couldn’t quite grasp. “You are being kept here because you were suspected to have used M.O.N.S.T.E.R to Break, an illegal activity you have already confirmed having done. An Obelisk officer is interrogating you because you were seen with Byun ‘Sigma’ Baekhyun, a wanted criminal. And you are being sent outside of the Dome because the Dream has said so, and hence fighting for us outside of the walls is your Destiny.”

Maybe the most sensible option would had been remaining silent. Or begging for his life, perhaps: bowing his head and promising them help, or pleading for a forgiveness that wouldn’t come anyway. But Junmyeon always said the same thing - that he had defiance inside of him, fire. A stubbornness that he should learn to control, to tame and conceal, because it would get him in trouble if he did not. So he scoffed; he raised his head like he was Ace, the M.O.N.S.T.E.R champion, and not Park Chanyeol, the scared boy back at home. “Well, it’s really convenient,” he replied, “that after almost 23 years of nothing, the Dreamers see me dying exactly when you want me gone.”

“So you question the Dream and its Dreamers?” Doctor Lu inquired. He didn’t seem angry at all, but rather… interested. Amused, even. “Do you realize that opposing Destiny is a crime according to our laws?”

“I don’t question the Dream, I question  _ you _ ,” Chanyeol snapped. “Everyone in this city gets a sealed letter from the Obelisk when their Destiny is revealed, but I get an interrogation room and isolation. What are you going to tell my mother? That I took my official letter with me when I was casted out?” If he was sent out of the Dome, no one would believe what he had to say. Men could come up with very creative excuses when it came to avoiding a death sentence.

He was going to be sick.

There was nothing but silence and his ragged breath for a while. Commander Wu looked as impassible as ever; Doctor Lu, taken aback, as shocked as a scolded child. “Don’t be dramatic,” he said. “You should trust your officers.” The smile came back so suddenly after that, spreading all over his face like flame on oil, changing his expression like a mask, twisting surprise into amusement. “If your letter is you want, you shall have it. Directly sent from the top of the Obelisk, sealed in black and white. We are not allowed to open it, and neither we are to modify it,” he added, taking a square, white envelope and walking to the table to place it in front of Chanyeol. It was a pretty thing, made of thick paper, embellished in silver, his full name written in neat, black calligraphy at the front. “This is the word of the Dreamers, the will of the Dream, your duty to accept and to fulfill.”

Doctor Lu was waiting, smile still on his lips, while Commander Wu studied him, like he was pondering what his next move would be. Chanyeol just wetted his lips and took the letter, feeling the rough texture of its paper under his fingertips. His hands were surprisingly steady as he turned the envelope around, hesitating only for the fraction of a second before he broke the wax seal. It was the second letter he received in his life, but the one he had gotten in high school had come inside of a black envelope - the color of bad omens - and this carried the pristine white of good news.

All of it looked so official: the wax, the watermarked paper, the emblems. The letter inside was printed in silver ink, the same shade only the officials at the top of the Obelisk tower were allowed to use - for transcribing and communicating what Dreamers saw.

And there it was, every detail. His name and birthdate, atop of the page. The time of the Dream that had revealed his Destiny, dated that same morning. And below, his fate: the army outside of the Dome. There was a text below, a congratulatory message of some sort, talking once more about honor and sacrifice, but his eyes wouldn’t focus, his breath wouldn’t come back to his lungs.

“Well?” Doctor Lu said. He hadn’t looked at the letter. Why should he, if he already knew? Chanyeol didn’t know why he was still trying to fight.

“What are you going to do with me?” he muttered.

He only got silence.

\--

There were cells in the third basement floor. It was logical in a sense - they were in the Government Building of the First Ward after all, they probably needed a place to keep troublemakers after an arrest - but Chanyeol couldn’t help to find the idea strange, almost foreign.

People were coming and going in the floors above his head: civilians in jeans and sweaters, civil workers with their neat, silver uniforms and researchers in white lab coats. All of them going on with their lives, ignorant of the boy dressed in white sitting in the corner of his windowless, colorless room, chin resting on his bent knees, eyes closed.

He didn’t know what time it was. Doctor Lu had let him keep the letter, but he had never given him back his watch, or his broken comm. He hadn’t gotten food either, but he already felt like he was about to throw up. He had tried to lay on the floor and sleep, disconnect from reality even if it only was for a little while, but his head was spinning too fast to allow darkness to take him.

He guessed he could stand up, ran to the exit door and hit it with his closed fists until his hands hurt, but that would do him no good. No one would come for him, he wouldn’t be granted a trial. Destiny came above all else in the streets of the Dome, and his was right there, written in silver in an official letter from atop the Obelisk.

Could the Dreamers have seen him in his slumber? Had one of the people continuously sleeping at the top of the silver tower really  _ seen _ him in their visions?

_ Too convenient _ , he thought. But then, he had always thought that the Dream was convenient - a comfortable higher power that kept the balance inside of town and all trouble outside of it. People had always embraced the lack of decision: the Dream told them what their job should be and most liked it, and all accepted it. The Dream told to most who their destined partner was, and it was not compulsory by law to meet, but everyone did, and it most cases it worked. Chanyeol’s parents had been destined, and his mother used to say she had been blessed by the Dream.

Apparently, the same thing couldn’t be said for her son. Perhaps that was a punishment of sorts, karma hitting him right back in the face. For not being as much of a believer as the rest of his family. Or for doing something that he shouldn’t have done, and kissing boys who looked too dangerous.

“An official letter, huh?” he whispered, letting his body slide down the wall until he was resting on the cold floor, eyes on the ceiling and fingers grazing the envelope, mind drifting between opening it once more or tearing its contents in half. “Does the Dream want to kill me so much?”

Commander Wu had told him he would come for him in the morning to take him to the Obelisk tower. They would prepare him there, then send him out. He wondered how long he would survive with no glass walls to keep him away from the war and the wasteland, and nothing more than a gas mask to protect him from the toxic air. It was said that even breathing hurt when you were out there, that the poison in it burned you up from the inside, slowly but steadily, until one day you collapsed and never, ever woke up.

He wondered if he should fight for survival or for the end to come quick. That, at least, should be his choice.

Time passed and passed, and Chanyeol couldn’t count the minutes, the hours, but he eventually fell asleep. He dreamed of the open sky, as it had appeared in the Old Era photos on the Network: a vast canopy of black and sparkling silver at night that blossomed into a gradient of red and yellow and then blue when the sun came up. And it was beautiful, how it changed as he watched, standing among the ruins of the World Before in his combat gear, as the stars faded and the darkness turned to light.

_ Light. _

“Hey!” a voice said behind him. It sounded distant - his Commander, calling him to arms beyond the fading shadows. “Park Chanyeol!”

“I am coming!” he replied. He  _ had _ to go, he had been taken there to fight, but he didn’t want to. He felt like running away, but the world was shaking.

“Oh, come on, look at me,” his commander repeated. And it was weird, because he sounded so young, and too close now, and a little bit too bored.”I don’t have all night.”

Something hit him on his shoulder, too softly to hurt but hard enough to make him groan in displeasure. He tried to turn around to protest, but he closed his eyes and when he opened them again there was no sky. No wasteland, no war, no colors - only the white ceiling and the windowless walls of his cell. And inside of it, a boy.

Unlike Chanyeol, he was wearing full black - from the tight gear that embraced the shape of his body like a second skin, to his jacket, gloves and boots. There was only the faintest spark of silver on his ear, just at the place where the cloth mask that hid half of his face ended. And of course, his eyes were also grey - a metallic shade, like the walls of the Dome at night. Chanyeol recognized those first, and blinked in confussion.

Commander Wu had labeled that boy a terrorist, and now he really looked the part. He had called him Sigma, too, but Chanyeol knew him by a different name. “Baekhyun?”

At first, the boy didn’t reply and just observed him for a while, gloved hand on his waist, the tip of one of his combat boots dangerously close to his head. Then, he crouched beside him and pulled the cloth that covered half of his face to uncover his features. He was still wearing that blasted lip-ring thing, and was smiling at him like he had done when they had meet at Black Light - like he was about to compliment his M.O.N.S.T.E.R skills and ask him for a kiss, and not squatting by his side in a government cell.

“Hi there,” he said, and he let out a little, throaty laugh, exactly like Chanyeol remembered it. “I see you have a thing for sleeping on the floor, huh? It’s the second time I see you doing it in less than twenty-four hours.”

Chanyeol blinked. “What?” He was still groggy, and Baekhyun looked so, so real, even though he couldn’t possibly  _ be _ in that place. Maybe he was still dreaming, or hallucinating. “What are you doing here? How did you get in?”

“Me? Through the door,” the other boy replied. He sounded so nonchalant, and Chanyeol would had punched him. Straight on his tiny, pretty nose. “Luckily for you, the Obelisk guys weren’t in a rush to take you to their silver tower. The cells there are high security; these ones are just a caution measure for drunkards, molesters and troublemakers. You should be kinda happy they thought you were too useless to run away by yourself.”

“What-- Useless?” Chanyeol repeated. The last traces of sleep were quickly giving way to alarm. He was too cold to be sleeping, and Baekhyun was too… consistent to be part of a dream. He tried to sit up, so fast that he felt dizzy for a second, and the firm pressure of the other boy’s hand on his shoulder was just too real to be a product of his imagination. So Baekhyun  _ was _ there. The real one.

“Well, feel insulted by the Obelisk people in the silver tower if you must, not by me,” he was saying. “If my boss sent me to get you out of this place, it was because he was impressed enough by your abilities. Same thing about me: you’re too much of a newbie when it comes to not getting caught in real life, but I’ll admit you know how stuff is done inside of that M.O.N.S.T.E.R hack.” He got up then, effortlessly, and stretched his arm towards Chanyeol, as if offering his hand to help him stand. His movements were confident, fluid, like Commander Wu’s had been, but he had an innate grace that the other man lacked. It felt almost like comparing rock to water, earth to flame. “Come on,” he told him. “You’re cute and all, but stop looking at me like a pouty puppy and get up. We still need to get out, you know?”

Chanyeol looked at the hand before him. Baekhyun had very pretty fingers, for being such a bastard. “You’re here because you’re helping me escape,” he muttered. All that was so surreal, so  _ absurd _ , so stupid that he would had laughed. He kept silent, however, pressing his lips into a thin line as he rejected the help and got up by his own means. Baekhyun raised his eyebrows, but looked more amused than actually offended.

“I’m your one-way ticket out of this place, yes,” he confirmed. “What’s wrong? Don’t you trust me?”

Chanyeol’s eyes drifted to the cell door. It was still closed, undamaged, no noise or screams or alarms at the other side. “Do you want me to trust  _ you?” _ he asked, incredulous, trying to whisper instead of shouting. “I made that mistake once and I ended up in this whole mess! I was told who you are; you’re a terrorist and a murderer, not to say a traitor against the Dream and--”

“I am not a murderer,” Baekhyun replied casually. “A terrorist, perhaps, and certainly a traitor if it is  _ their _ Dream we are talking about. You know, the same Dream in which name you got an official letter. The one ordering you to go die outside of the Dome just because some higher up at the Obelisk thought that you knew more than you should. Does it ring a bell?”

“How do you know that?”

“I saw.” Baekhyun shrugged, taking Chanyeol’s letter off his own jacket pocket and showing him. It had been on the floor while the boy had been sleeping, and the fact that Baekhyun had probably taken and read it before waking him up made him feel a rush of hot anger.

“Give that back!” he hissed, rushing forward. Baekhyun let him grab the envelope, but didn’t release his own grip, looking up at him with grey, metallic eyes instead.

“Haven’t you thought about it while you were here?” he whispered, a smirk pulling his lips upwards. “That all that army bullshit is not your true fate? Everyone believes that what’s written in the letters is the Destiny that the Dreamers see because it’s always been like this, but what if you were being lied to? These official letters only have a meaning because the Obelisk says they do.”

_ Everything is too convenient. _ Of course he had known, he had always suspected. He had surrendered that night because he had realized that he had no way to fight. No one would believe him, not his family, not his friends, not like this. Only Baekhyun did, and by the way he was looking at him he already knew he was Chanyeol’s last resort.

The bastard. “This is all your fault!” he protested. “If you hadn’t come to Black Light, I--”

He didn’t continue, and Baekhyun didn’t press further on the subject. He let go of the envelope instead, letting Chanyeol keep it and observing him in silence as he hid it under the jacket of his prison uniform, against his skin. “I’ll admit,” he started thoughtfully, pondering his words, “that maybe me going with Jongdae in an unauthorized mission and tricking you into Breaking into that database was technically my fault, but I am saving you now. Doesn’t it make up for the trouble?”

“You said you’re here because your boss told you to come!”

“My boss can order, yeah. It’s up to me to obey or not.” Baekhyun shrugged. He was still too close for Chanyeol’s comfort, but he didn’t move away. It was almost as he was daring Chanyeol to step back himself, and there was amusement in his eyes when he did not. “But listen, boy. I’m not gonna stay here all day, and as I see it you have two options. You can rot here until you are taken out of the Dome and eliminated for the sake of the Dream or you can, well, choose me.”

“Choose  _ you _ ?”

“Come with me. Join me. Become an outlaw, a wanted terrorist. Jongdae’s a hacker, but we’re short on Breakers, you know.”

“I--” Chanyeol finally stepped back, clutching the hidden letter against his chest. He could decide to stay and get killed or to leave and die trying to do something else. To become a doomed soldier or a wanted criminal. And forty-eight hours ago the biggest of his concerns had been the rain. “Do you know what’s going on here?”

There were many things that he could have been talking about. The city. The Dream. The Obelisk and their letters. In the end, they were all threads of the same, bigger design, so Baekhyun didn’t ask further, didn’t specify. “Maybe I do,” he replied, still grinning, his voice a low purr. “Partially, at least. But it wouldn’t be wise of me to explain it to someone who’s not on my side, don’t you think?”

“I just--” Chanyeol started. And he didn’t want to say it, he didn’t want to seem weak to that boy, but the words came out before he could stop them. “I don’t want to die.”

Baekhyun’s piercing glinted when he bit his lip. “Nobody wants to. But well then?” he asked. He clearly wanted him to say it. To ask for it.

“Didn’t you come for me? Then take me out of this place.”

“Aren’t you gonna say please?”

“Just fuck o--  _ Please.” _

“Praised be the Dream, finally,” Baekhyun replied. “But oh, well. Your wish is my command, newbie boy. Now let’s get ready.”


	4. Login 03

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the little delay in this one, but I got really stuck when writing this :'D I hope you'll like it, though, so please enjoy!!

**Login 03**

“I am almost convinced that you want to kill me,” Chanyeol muttered. Baekhyun was walking in front of him, flashlight in hand, and turned his head to send a wolfish grin in his general direction.

“ _ Almost  _ convinced?” he replied, choosing to ignore Chanyeol’s obvious pout. “Oh my. That must mean I am not doing my job well enough.”

“My wrist hurts. And I’m sure my neck is bleeding. What if it gets infected? The skin is pulsing where you cut it, and I can almost feel it--”

“Oh, come on, you’re such a crybaby for someone so tall. Nothing’s gonna get infected, I knew what I was doing.” There was absolute certainty in Baekhyun’s words, but he stopped advancing nonetheless, walking back to where Chanyeol was and pointing his flashlight to the other boy’s roughly bandaged wrist, then his neck. “The cut on your neck opened, yes. That’s what you get for looking around so much. That prison uniform thing you’re wearing is going to be stained red, but since I guess you weren’t planning to keep it once we leave the sewers, that’s just a minor inconvenience.”

“Is really my uniform the only issue you can think of?”

“What else?” Baekhyun pointed the flashlight at Chanyeol’s face, and its light was so bright that the boy had to squint.

“I don’t know. Maybe the fact that you tore both my ID chips raw off my skin? With a fucking butcher knife?”

“It was not a butcher knife, just a regular dagger,” Baekhyun pointed out. “Carrying a butcher knife around would be most inconvenient.”

“That doesn’t change the fact that you cut my skin open.  _ Deep. _ ”

“Not so deep, baby boy,”  Baekhyun corrected again. He was smirking like he enjoyed all that, and Chanyeol realized that he probably did, the same way he had enjoyed making him kneel on the floor of his cell, knife in hand and fingers on his skin, while he searched for the chip under his flesh.  _ This won’t hurt _ , he had said.  _ Not much. _ But he had sounded so amused that it was obvious he was lying. “You would be bleeding much more if I had been trying to hurt you, you know? I just cut a tiny, little bit to be able to reach the chip and then I sank the tip of the knife to--”

Chanyeol shook his head, leaving Baekhyun behind and continuing to advance through the dark tunnel. He knew it wasn’t the wisest of choices, considering that he didn’t know where he was and that the other boy had their only source of light, but he didn’t really need any more details. “You’re such a sadist,” he mumbled.

“I was very gentle. Since I am so nice,” Baekhyun singsonged at his back. “And just so you know, there was no other way. I had to take both your IDs out without breaking them in the process. Jongdae may be good enough to loop their security cameras but there’s no way he could inhibit the chip frequency without the Obelisk knowing. They would have tracked us if you still had them on, and they would have immediately found us out if the signal had just stopped, so taking them off you in one piece was the only thing I could do. Of course, they will have noticed by now that they are not attached to your body anymore, but we are already out of their reach. So, see? You should thank me.”

“Like hell I will.”

“Huh. Why so grumpy?” It should have been obvious that Chanyeol was having trouble seeing where he was going, but Baekhyun just continued to walk behind him, pointing his flashlight at the concrete ceiling of the tunnel. “I saw a couple of interviews of yours in the Network, because of your M.O.N.S.T.E.R success and all, and it’s not like you were especially… remarkable, but you seemed friendlier. Like some kind of affable golden retriever. Why are you so sulky now?”

The scoff was out before Chanyeol couldn’t even think about stopping himself. “Do you really have to ask? I have been tricked, detained, condemned to a life of servitude in the army, wounded with a knife, become and outlaw and now I am stucked with a terrorist in the sewers, running away to the Dreamers-know-where and I can’t even  _ see _ where I am going. There hasn’t been a single thing to be happy about.”

“You got to be rescued by the infamous Sigma.”

“Could the infamous Sigma point his flashlight to the pitch black path ahead of us, at least, or is he waiting for me to fall on my face?”

In his favor, that bastard had a pretty laugh. “Sorry, sorry,” he said, and Chanyeol could almost imagine the grin on his lips when he spoke. “Didn’t realize. My eyes, you see. Night vision.”

Of course Baekhyun would have a night vision function in those eerie, synthetic eyes of his. Bionically enhanced prosthetics were exactly what one would have expected of a wanted terrorist.

“Can I ask you something?” Chanyeol requested after a while. Baekhyun had finally decided to be a little less difficult and was finally using his torch to light up the way ahead of them, which meant that, at least, the boy could see the path ahead of him. There wasn’t nothing new, however, nothing outstanding - just the same grey, aseptic tunnel in front of them, going on and on and on until the light merged once more into shadows.

“Can I talk  _ you _ out of making questions? I don’t think so, so just go on.”

“What did you do?”

“Me?”

“To be labeled a terrorist, I mean. A terrorist and a traitor to the Dream. It sounds… severe.”

“Perhaps because it is. I am guilty of felony and should be executed because of my dishonesty, and disloyalty, and seditious acts. That’s what my official, top secret file said the last time I got to check it, at least.” Baekhyun sped up until he was walking beside him, black mask over his nose and mouth again and one hand on Chanyeol’s arm. “But for mundanes like you, let’s say I was a very bad boy, that’s all.”

“So you’re not gonna answer my question.”

“I took you for a clever kid, what do you think?”

For some reason, Chanyeol didn’t think that Baekhyun had much faith in his intelligence, anyway. “And do you really want me to trust you if you’re not giving any details? I don’t even know if the name you gave me is your real one, for the Dreamer’s sake!”

“Well, it’s not a question about trust, you know? Maybe my boss will ask you to believe in his ideals, but me? Nah. I don’t have a set of those.” The other boy moved forward, fast and silent, studying the landscape before them. The tunnel they had been traversing came to an abrupt end, and the path continued through a round hole in the ground, so dark that it seemed bottomless. There was a rusty metal ladder that went down, so old that it looked like it was about to come off from its hooks on the pavement. Chanyeol almost cringed when he saw it, but Baekhyun was the perfect image of nonchalance. Perhaps terrorists did things like that every day. “If you want to know,” he said then, and Chanyeol could almost  _ hear _ the wry smile in his voice. “Byun Baekhyun’s my real name. Didn’t that fancy Obelisk commander tell you?”

“And why would you tell me your real name when you met me if you were a wanted man?”

“Byun Baekhyun is me alright, but Byun Baekhyun is officially dead. It’s not like I can use the name for anything important anymore. Sigma is the only part of me that matters.”

“You’re not answering my question. Again,” Chanyeol protested, as he watched the other boy point his flashlight to the bottom of the hole, and then kneel beside the ladder. “Commander Wu knew Sigma and Byun Baekhyun were the same person. You weren’t exactly hiding who you were when you dragged me into all this mess.”

“Maybe because I wanted the Obelisk to know who Broke into their database.” Baekhyun’s tone was all amusement, but there was an edge to his words, as sharp as the knife that had pierced Chanyeol’s skin before. 

“Technically, it was me who did,” he pointed out, and let the air off his lungs when Baekhyun laughed.

“Touché. But you got my message across. Such a good boy, you are,” he replied, then signaling to the hole before him with a shake of his head. “So you earned it. You go down first.”

“What?”

Baekhyun pointed at the ladder with one gloved finger. “I’ll lighten the way for you from the top, and then go after you,” he explained. Chanyeol was pretty sure his face looked as colorless as the uniform he was wearing, and Baekhyun didn’t exactly help him calm down when he reached for the handle of the ladder and shook it, as if he was trying to tear it off from the concrete walls. “Come on, it looks like it’s about to fall off, but it’s sturdier than that. I used this one to come up and it didn’t break on me.” He studied Chanyeol for a second, then added, “you look heavier than I am, though.”

“You’re not helping.”

It was not like he had any other choice, so Chanyeol sighed and walked towards the ladder, positioning himself so he could start to go down. Its whole metal surface was rusty, so he wrapped his hands in the sleeves of his uniform before proceeding to sink in the shadows, while Baekhyun sat at the edge of the hole - feet dangling like a very obnoxious child’s - and pointed the flashlight down.

At least, the other boy had been right, and the ladder was much more robust than it had looked. The way down was an endless descent to the unknown, the air getting staler and more humid as he went, but at least the steps under his feet were firm and stable and he didn’t need to think to keep going, his body falling into an easy routine.

Concrete gave way to red brick, coolness became humid heat and the light of Baekhyun’s torch eventually dissolved into darkness, but he focused on the sound of his breath and on the strain in his arms, and before he realized he was standing on safe ground. He couldn’t see a thing, even though his eyes should have probably been as used as they could get to the pitch-black space around him, so he just took a couple of steps back and stood still, waiting.

He saw Baekhyun’s flashlight before he heard him - a circle of yellowish white growing bigger and bigger as the other man made his way down, silent as fog and fast as if he was just sliding his way down instead of stepping. There was a soft metallic clink as he jumped, and before Chanyeol could even blink he was landing before him with the grace of a trapeze artist who had just aced a show.

“See?” he commented. “You didn’t fall, you didn’t die. Don’t you do this on your M.O.N.S.T.E.R games all the time?”

“It’s not the same. I don’t usually risk dying in M.O.N.S.T.E.R tournaments, you know? And also, I don’t use my real body there.”

Baekhyun pointed his flashlight at him, then back at the floor between them. Chanyeol was sure he looked like shit - still panting, cheeks red, hair plastered to his forehead and prison uniform dirty - but then there was Baekhyun, standing with his back straight and head held high, like the bad-boy lead of a teenage blockbuster. His hair was slightly damp, curling at his nape, but that was the only effect that heat and humidity seemed to have on him. Chanyeol had to admit he hadn’t been very regular with his own gym visits, but that damned boy didn’t even look tired. At all.

Chanyeol would had punched him in the face, if only that would make him stop looking at him so smugly. He was sure he would lose if Baekhyun decided to punch him back, though, so he decided to drop the idea. “Where are we exactly?” he asked instead. “This place looks so old.”

“Because it is. These are Old Era ruins, you see. They kept part of the primitive sewer system when the Dome was built. No one comes down here, so it’s not like there was much use in upgrading it, I guess.” Baekhyun shrugged. “It’s useful to us, though. There’s moderate security on the surface, but not down here. And you have already seen we can use these tunnels to get almost anywhere.”

“And where are we going now?”

“Thirteenth Ward. We get from First to Fourteenth, then there. I hope you have enough stamina to endure the walk?”

“Of course I do. Try me.”

Baekhyun patted him in the shoulder before he pointed with his flashlight to the path before me. “Believe me, I will. But let’s go, newbie boy. We have a long way to go.”

\--

The old sewer system was a dirty, narrow place. Chanyeol knew he was the one who had accepted Baekhyun’s challenge - as a matter of fact, he might have been the one to tell his companion to  _ try him _ \- but they had been walking for almost an hour now, and the high temperature and stale air were smothering him, to the point where he thought he would faint, or throw up, or most likely both.

Down there, the arched walls of the tunnel were made of reddish brick, the floor cracked stone under their boots. Chanyeol knew he was striding towards a freedom of sorts, but couldn’t help to feel like a prisoner of another time, another era, buried alive in a tomb of stagnant water and rancid air. The thought that, somewhere above his head, the streets of the Fourteenth Ward of the Dome stretched across the land, broad and impeccable and full of sound and life, seemed almost inconceivable.

Especially after stepping on a water-filled cavity in the ground by mistake, and finding himself ankle-deep in some sort of liquid substance that smelled like something had died inside of it.

“We are here,” Baekhyun suddenly said, walking to the wall and pointing to a metal ladder there. Chanyeol had seen many of those as they traveled across the tunnels, and wondered for a second how the hell Baekhyun knew which one they should take to go up, but he was too tired to question him. “This one will lead us to a maintenance room inside our current base.”

So at least they wouldn’t need to walk the streets as they were. What a relief. “What time is it now?”

“Early morning,” Baekhyun replied, fastening his flashlight to a hook in his belt. “Sleepy?”

“Not much,” Chanyeol lied.

“Well,  _ I  _ am. I’ll go up first, newbie. Don’t fall.”

The ascent was far more straining than the way down had been. The air started to get cooler, more bearable soon, but the muscles on his arms and legs hurt, his hands were slick with sweat and his throat was as raw as if it had been scrubbed with sandpaper. By the time the steps finally came to an end and he found soft, stable ground under his hands and knees, he had to fight not to collapse then and there. He struggled to get up and stand straight, however, if only just because Baekhyun was looking at him.

“You okay?” he asked.

“I’m fine.”

Baekhyun snorted. “You look better than ever. So pretty.”

He had failed to notice at first, but Chanyeol realized that there was light in that room. Not natural, as the place had no windows, but it was a relief to be able to completely see his surroundings, even if there wasn’t nothing there but Baekhyun and a metal door.

“Where are we?” he asked.

“Told you, didn’t I? Thirteenth Ward. We change headquarters a lot, but this is our current base. You’ll see.” Baekhyun had removed the black cloth covering his nose and mouth once more, and the chain that dangled from his bottom lip glinted as he spoke. Chanyeol wondered dumbly if it wasn’t heavy, if it didn’t hurt; was so focused on it that he almost missed the moment when Baekhyun swept his hand over an ID reader close to the door. “Come on.”

The reader beeped, the door creaked, then opened, and Chanyeol was greeted by sunlight. It wasn’t much, just a faint ray coming from somewhere above the stairs at the other side of the threshold, but it was enough for a weight to be lifted off the boy’s shoulders and for relief to come flooding in.

“Praised be the Dream,” he muttered, more out of habit than because he had something to thank it for, and then he moved forward, not even thinking about waiting for Baekhyun before he practically ran up the stairs. “Oh, heavens.”

His steps took him to a corridor, a common hallway in what looked like a common house, with a brownish rug on the floor and a single window on the wall. Chanyeol was almost drawn to the glass, like moth to flame - it had been less than a day since he had last seen sunlight, but it sure felt like an eternity. It was warm where it touched his face, like invisible fingers caressing his skin. He couldn’t help but smile at the sensation, letting the air out his lungs until his chest felt lighter and the exhaustion subsided, if only a little.

“Look at how happy you are,” Baekhyun’s voice said somewhere to his right a moment after. “You must be the first person I know who is this glad to be in a Ward as boring as this one.”

Chanyeol’s smile dimmed into a thoughtful press of lips. There was an empty alley at the other side of the window, no hasty pedestrians or neon flashing at the broader street below. Beyond, he could see the inner wall of the dome, an opaque, crystal-like surface that curved up like the iridescent inner part of a shell. It had the shine of polished glass in the early morning, letting the sunlight in, but blocking their vision out. He had been near the Dome wall before, but never this close - it was easier to ignore its existence when one didn’t have to look at it.

“That street out there looks so mundane,” he whispered. “Just like your regular avenue in your regular residential district.”

“And what did you expect? A high security fortress?” Baekhyun replied. “You  _ will _ be found if you make it clear you’re hiding. So we just stay low, Park, that’s all we need.”

Chanyeol took another look at the Dome wall. He was there. He was safe. He had escaped. “What now?” he asked. “What am I going to do?”

“For now? Report to the boss. Then we’ll see.”

\--

Perhaps Chanyeol’s concept of what and how a rebel should be had been tainted by all the Old Era based films and videogames around. In the movies he had watched in his comm under the blankets, when he was a kid of twelve and thirteen and his mother was sleeping, the insurgents and freedom fighters had always been so  _ cool. _ They had those high-tech weapons and incredible modern bases, control rooms with beeping computers and steel-reinforced doors. Baekhyun, with his black, tight suit, fancy gadgets and predatory elegance, had accurately fitted that image, but the rest of the rebel headquarters was just a tidy, three-storied building in the outskirts of the Dome, and the boss office was nothing more than a tiny room at the end of the corridor, so similar to Junmyeon’s study in the Dream Research Department that Chanyeol felt disoriented for a second.

The only thing that looked remotely rebel-like was the huge Dome map, its Wards marked in different colors, that hanged from the wall at his right and the three computer monitors that took up half of the space on the desk. The remaining part of the furniture were metal filing cabinets and cheap-looking bookshelves, stacked full with books and folders and bound paper documents.

There was a person there too, a young man who had been reading some sort of book when they arrived, and who looked up as soon as Baekhyun opened the door. And he looked… cordial enough, yes, like those friendly-looking guys that sometimes waved at Chanyeol from the treadmill when he ventured out of his apartment and decided to put his gym pass to use. He could not be much older than he was, and he was different enough from the scarred, old war veteran image that Chanyeol had in mind. 

“Sigma,” he said, as Baekhyun closed the door behind them. He was wearing a sleeveless shirt over a grey wife beater, and looked as sleepy as a university student on his fourth coffee break during a pre exam all-nighter - bleached hair messy, clothes rumpled, half-empty mug beside the documents on the table.

“Hi, boss,” Baekhyun replied, grinning at him. “Were you waiting for me?”

“What do you think?”

“I think that caffeine’s gonna kill you.” The boy casually leaned over the desk to grab the mug and grimaced at the contents. “How do you even drink this thing?”

“It helps me concentrate when I have to stay up and fill my time while I wait for you to fix your mistakes. You brought your poor victim, I see.”

Baekhyun tilted his head to consider Chanyeol once more. “Ace,” he introduced. “M.O.N.S.T.E.R legend and Breaker.”

“Park Chanyeol,” the boy corrected. “I’m guessing you’re the one who told Baekhyun to free me from that cell?”

“Sorry about that,” the stranger said with a small, slightly exasperated sigh. “It’s a little complicated to keep Sigma under control sometimes. He was acting without authorization on my part when he got you to Break for him. I only knew when he brought me the info. I’m really sad to hear that he got you in trouble.”

“He got me  _ imprisoned. _ ”

“No pain, no gain,” Baekhyun answered. “And besides, my mission was a success. You were so useful, aren’t you proud?”

“No,” his boss and Chanyeol cut him at the same time.

“You compromised this boy’s security,” the rebel leader added.

“Maybe it was Destiny. For us to meet.”

“That’s no excuse.” Baekhyun’s boss turned to look at Chanyeol, his brow slightly furrowed. “I apologize in Sigma’s name once more. You are safe now, at least as much as your situation allows it. I’m Kim Minseok, by the way, Codename Xiumin. I am the person in charge of this base, and I’ll try to help you to the best of my ability.”

At least he seemed more serious than Baekhyun. That should had made Chanyeol feel a little better, but the boy couldn’t help the shiver of dread that crept up his spine. It had been easier to put his current situation aside when everything he needed to do was trying to keep up with Baekhyun as they travelled across the old sewer system, but now he was safe, and he was there, dirty and confused and exhausted, standing in front of a young man he didn’t know after being rescued by  _ terrorists _ .

“What is… all this?” he asked, biting his lip when he realized that his voice was quivering. “Who are you exactly? What is going on?”

“I thought we had already discussed that,” Baekhyun chimed in. “The Obelisk has been lying to you. Not only  _ you _ , of course: to us. To this whole city.”

Chanyeol hesitated. “Still, I--”

“Allow me to explain,” the man named Minseok said when Chanyeol’s words finally faded into silence. “You know how the system works, here in the Dome. Dreamers see traces of Destiny in their slumber, and their Dream protects us. We were saved from the toxic air and the war outside because Dreamers foresaw the Dome covering us, and we listened. Things go well when we do, so our ancestors turned their visions into law, built a silver tower to keep Dreamers safe and established a government who would guard the Dream, and deliver its message to the people. And two centuries later, the system works, because those messages are always right and people are happy, or at least satisfied, with what they get.”

“Except,” Baekhyun added, “when they don’t. You have seen what happens then.”

Chanyeol took a moment to nod. “Do they send all the problematic ones out of the city?”

“Perhaps. Or maybe they just kill them.” Baekhyun shrugged, a crooked grin on his face. “No one would know anyway. No one would miss them.”

_ They wouldn’t go as far as that,  _ Chanyeol was about to say, then he remembered the white room, the official letter, Commander Wu’s steely eyes on him as he read, and Doctor Lu’s amusement when he had finally understood what the words meant. “Why would they?” he asked instead.

“So no one would bother them.”

“It’s simple to do whatever you want when you have Destiny on your side,” Minseok added. “Everyone waits for white letters, everyone  _ wants _ them, everyone believes _. _ Write whatever you want on them and, as long as it is convenient for the majority, people will listen. Then you just need to take care of the rest.”

Chanyeol shook his head. He had never been a very pious believer, that much was true, but what Minseok was saying sounded almost blasphemous. “What are you trying to say? That the Dream doesn’t exist?” he protested. “My friend’s sister awoke as a Dreamer when she was fourteen. She was taken to the silver tower soon after, but I remember her having visions.” He remembered Jongin too, telling them after school, his eyes surrounded by dark circles and his face very pale. He had said that his sister only slept, and that was unstable when she was awake. That she had grabbed him by the wrist in one of her moments of consciousness and had told him  _ not to close his eyes _ in a voice so deep that it barely sounded like hers anymore. And Jongin was many things, but he had never been a liar. He did not exaggerate, either. “What you’re saying doesn’t make sense.”

“It does,” Baekhyun replied, his expression hardening. “Because the Dream does exist, and the Dreamers can really glimpse Destiny in their sleep. But they never go out of their silver tower, now do they? And we can’t see them, can’t really ask them anything. It is the Obelisk who keeps them there, the Obelisk who writes the letters and sends them to each one of us. So they twist Destiny. They corrupt it. They write down lies and feed them to this city, and people believe because, deep down, they don’t care if they are deceived or not as long as they’re told what they want to hear.”

Under his dirty uniform, Chanyeol’s own official letter was smooth and soft, pressed against his skin, and he fought the urge to take it out, read it once more. Break it, maybe, or just hold it closer. “So what do you want? Your rebels, your people. What are you all looking for?” he asked, and Minseok smiled at him.

“The truth. If I’m being lied to, I want to know. If the Destiny we follow is some kind of invention, I want every single citizen to be aware of it. I don’t know what the Obelisk is up to, exactly, but I am certain that they are not clean, and I want to get to the bottom of all this.”

“And how do you plan to do that? How many of you are there?”

“More than you think,” Minseok swiftly replied. “Not here, of course, this is only one base of many, a tiny unit inside a bigger organization. I only have two men under my command, but there’s many teams like ours, scattered around the city: little groups in the residential Wards, undercover solo agents working for the government… We don’t know everyone, of course: it is safer like this. Baekhyun and Jongdae report to me, and I report to my boss, who reports to his boss, and so on. But there’s many of us, and we all work towards the same end.”

“So you all are… separated all over the place?” Chanyeol whispered.

“Dispersed, but organized.”

“And what do you want me for?” the boy asked. His fists had clenched at his sides, and he tried to relax, to sound firmer than he felt. “Because Baekhyun said you were impressed by my abilities. He told me you were short on Breakers. You have brought me here and told me all this, but I assume you are not going to let me go just like that now that I am out of that cell.”

Kindness gave way to surprise in Minseok’s face, but it was Baekhyun who replied, all calm, back leaning on the wall, body relaxed, lips curved upwards, just slightly. “Where will you go if you don’t stay with us?” he asked, raising his tone at the end of the question, as if wondering. “You have no ID chip, your apartment is most possibly under surveillance, and it’s not like you can go back to streaming your M.O.N.S.T.E.R games or whatever it was you did without the Obelisk getting  _ very angry _ at you. At least we offer you a choice to do something.”

“ _ What?” _

“Sigma,” Minseok called, and Baekhyun rolled his eyes, but he didn’t press further.

“I don’t see what’s the point in lying to him,” he muttered. “That’s how things are.”

“They don’t have to be,” Minseok responded. Then, he turned to Chanyeol. “Listen to me. I am going to be honest: I want you to work for us. Our Jongdae is a decent hacker, but that’s not enough; we need a Breaker, and you’re the most capable one there is. You got us classified information when you Broke with Sigma, you gave us a lead. You’re exactly what this team is lacking and what we’re looking for. It’s not going to be easy; in fact, it  _ will _ be dangerous, but I’d like you to consider it, at least. The Obelisk has wronged you, too. They have made you a prisoner, kept you Dreamless for years.”

“Do I have another choice?” Chanyeol retorted.

A long second passed before Minseok sighed and replied. “Things are not as Sigma wants to make them out to be. I don’t want to force you, Chanyeol, of course you can reject us. There are other people who don’t want to be found out in the Dome, many more than you think. I’ve hidden others before and can keep you out of sight: a fake ID chip, a new name, a job in one of the production factories in the industrial Wards. You would have to lie low, of course, but it can be done.”

“If you’re a coward,” Baekhyun added under his breath.

Because, of course, he couldn’t remain quiet, and Chanyeol had had enough not to reply. “I am not!” he snapped, crossing the room in two swift strides, grabbing the other boy by the wrist and drawing him towards himself, so he would stop being so collected and self-satisfied. So the bastard would have to look up to stare at him in the eye. “So this is how you fight against liars and oppressors? By playing and manipulating people into doing what you want? By insulting them? That’s your way of finding the truth?”

“Me?” Baekhyun didn’t move; he didn’t avoid his gaze, he didn’t stop smiling. “I told you before, back in the sewers: Minseok’s the one with the chivalrous set of ideals, the knight in the shadows, but I’m not that kindhearted. I’m not searching for the truth - I already know what I need. The only thing I want is to burn that pretty Obelisk tower to the ground.”

There was a constant undercurrent of laughter in Baekhyun’s voice, like a concealed blade under his clothes. It always made it hard for Chanyeol to know if he was joking or not. “You--” he started. His fingers burned where they were touching the other boy, his heart was spinning. 

“I want them gone, but so should you,” Baekhyun told him then, his voice so low. “I might make you mad, but we have a common enemy. What are you gonna do about it? Run until they put you in another cell? I won’t be there to save you, then.”

“I won’t need you.”

“Ah. No? Wouldn’t you miss me?”

“Can you two stop it?”

Chanyeol tore his eyes away from Baekhyun just in time to see Minseok getting up from his desk and walking towards them, brow furrowed and lips pressed into a thin, white line. And the boy should have stopped, maybe, but he chose to stand his ground.

“He started it,” he growled, his fingers still iron on Baekhyun’s skin. A part of him was sure that he could feel the other boy’s pulse, all calm and steady, in the warm skin of his wrist.

“I did,” he whispered. “But they were probably going to get you sooner or later. They eliminated you too fast, you see? As soon as you gave them a valid reason. You’re too good at that game, and they don’t like excellence. Shouldn’t you put your skills to use? You told me you would when I saved you.”

“You didn’t exactly give me a choice,” Chanyeol replied, releasing him. He turned to Minseok, then. He would have liked so much to trust him, to believe in how nice he seemed. “But your boss now just did. Were you serious?”

“I was.”

“Well, then I-- I think I need to consider all this. Too many things happened yesterday, and I’m too tired to-- Could you give me at least some hours? A day, so I can rest?”

Without an ounce of hesitation, Minseok nodded. “Of course I can. We have a couple of extra rooms upstairs, you can use one. Here, if you want to go now I will show it to you. We can continue this conversation tomorrow.”

Relief flooded Chanyeol’s veins, soothing him. He could feel the tiredness now, taking over, making his limbs heavy and the cuts in his neck and wrist throb, in numbness rather than pain. He just wanted to sleep for a while, and forget about the black ice, the official Obelisk letter he kept under his clothes, Minseok and his speech and the knowing smile Baekhyun was giving him, even now.

“Sleep tight,” he said. “I’ll be here to say bye-bye if you decide to leave and start a new life, newbie. Just don’t make me wait too long for your big choice.”

\--

Chanyeol slept for so long. At first, he was too tired to do anything else, so he had lain on his bed as he was, sweaty skin and clothes a mess. He woke up later, feeling drained and gross, and he dragged himself towards the bathroom in the hallway. The boy who stared back at him from the mirror over the sink had the eyes of a caged bird and the pallor of an apparition - it was him but not the  _ him _ he knew. He thought cleaning himself would help, and he scrubbed his skin until it was tender and raw, until all the dirt from the sewers was gone and the mirror fogged up, but that didn’t clear his head. It didn’t help him to think, even though he knew that he had to. 

Someone had left a spare set of clothes for him in the bathroom. The pants were too short, and the t-shirt was so worn that it even had a couple of holes, but he was not in the mood to be picky. There was still light outside, but he walked back to his assigned room again and threw himself on the mattress. He didn’t know what time it was, but he didn’t care at all. He was a wanted man, as he would be that night, and the day after. Minseok’s offer would still stand when he woke up.

_ Leave life as you know it and start anew. _

Closing his eyes and letting go was easy. He wasn’t physically tired, not anymore, but he didn’t feel like moving. As Sehun had always loved to state, he had never been the most active person, but even though he never had a job, he always found things to  _ do -  _ walking through the Fourth and Fifth Wards, going to the gym every once in a while or just playing M.O.N.S.T.E.R - but he had none of that anymore.

He always played games when he wanted to clear his mind, and now his fingers itched to feel the cool metal of the IVR visor as he adjusted it over his head, his brain yearned for the darkness it brought before reality blurred into a virtual battlefield and Ace came into existence.

It was night outside when he woke up a second time, day again when he opened his eyes once more and realized his body wouldn’t go back to sleep. The Dome wall was opaque and oppressing and dull at the other side of the window, a presence he couldn’t ignore, so he got up and closed the curtains. They were so ugly and so blue - one of those tacky designs that imitated the Old Era sky and had been in vogue a couple of years ago. Junmyeon used to love those, and Chanyeol wondered where he was. If he and Sehun and Jongin were happy, if they believed him to be a honorable soldier or if the Obelisk had publicly labeled him a traitor. What would his mother think, then? His sister?

He had been Dreamless for his whole life, but he had also been safe \- not many close friends but no enemies. He could accept Minseok’s offer and receive a fake name, a new life. He _should_ accept. He wanted to.

_ But who are you gonna be, then? _

Chanyeol was about to go to bed again - even if it was useless to try - when he heard a knock on the door. It was soft, but insistent, a series of rhythmic bumps on the wood that lasted for a while and came back again after a stop.

“Who is it?” asked Chanyeol, despite feeling tempted to remain silent. He had expected Baekhyun, with his smug little smirk and usual air of overconfidence radiating out of him in waves, but it was a different man who opened the door. One who, as a matter of fact, looked much more apologetic than satisfied.

“Hey, Chanyeol,” he said. “I’m glad you’re awake.”

“Kim Jongdae?”

“Codename Chen, at your service. I am happy to see you’re in one piece, but I don’t know if the feeling is mutual. I’m sorry about what happened to you, I wasn’t expecting things to get so out of hand.” When he realized that Chanyeol wasn’t exactly answering, he walked into the room, closing the door behind him. He was carrying two plastic bags, and he gingerly offered them both to him. He had the look of a trainer trying to tame a dangerous, unpredictable animal. “Here, take this as an apology of sorts. I went to Fifth today, so I got you a sandwich. I guessed you would be hungry after being locked in for more than a day.”

“You’re trying to patch things up by bringing me food?” Chanyeol asked, incredulous.

“Well, I also brought you clothes. New and fancy and very black, directly from the store. I got the uniform and shoes you left at the bathroom as sizing reference, so I think it will be okay. Can you give it a look?”

Saying no would have been the most sensible choice, but Jongdae still looked so  _ nice _ , and he was staring at him with obvious concern, so he grabbed the bags and checked the contents with a sigh. The sandwich was inside the smaller one, wrapped in foil and still slightly warm. He recognized the logo in the other one, and his eyes opened wide when he looked inside.

“I love this brand,” he whispered.

“Everyone under thirty-five loves this brand,” Jongdae replied, laughing as Chanyeol took a black hoodie from inside and stared at it like it was an alien thing. That bag was huge, and it was full. He wasn’t sure if those people were just being kind or trying to bribe him. “I got the order to buy something for you, so I thought, why not?”

“You didn’t need to.”

“Come on, man, you need to wear  _ something.  _ The clothes we had here weren’t big enough for you after all. Sigma has a couple of oversized hoodies, so I guess you could have borrowed one of his, but I doubt his pants would fit.”

Chanyeol scoffed. “I don’t think he would like to lend his pants to someone he hates,” he pointed out, but Jongdae grinned.

“That shirt you’re wearing is his,” he commented. Chanyeol suddenly felt very tainted - no wonder that thing looked so worn. “But anyway, don’t worry about Sigma that much. I understand you two didn’t exactly have a good start, but he’s not as bad as he seems. And I don’t think he hates you, in case you’re wondering. No more than he hates the rest of the world, at least.”

“He’s an ass.”

“He’s difficult, I’ll give you that. He’s good at what he does, but he has issues of his own. There are… things that have been taken away from him, the same way your freedom was taken away from you, and he’s really vicious when it comes to fighting for that. He doesn’t care for anyone much, but I don’t think he has anything against you as a person.”

“That’s so nice of him,” grumbled Chanyeol.

“Even if he tries, don’t let him tease you. He may be evaluating what you can do right now, kind of, but he’ll warm up to you… possibly.”

Chanyeol walked back to his messy bed and sat on it, leaving his bags on the floor, his new sweater on his lap. He could see the cut Baekhyun had made on his wrist when he had torn his secondary ID chip off. The skin was still red and swollen, but it was starting to heal. Like most things did.

“I don’t know if I’ll be here by then,” he whispered, not because he thought Jongdae would care, but because he was there to listen. “Your leader offered me a deal. I can leave.”

There was a short pause. The sound of Jongdae moving across the room, the shift of the bed as he sat beside him, far enough, because they weren’t friends, but close enough to bring comfort.

“And will you?” he asked.

“I’ve been told you need a Breaker, and I am the best Breaker there is,” Chanyeol replied. “But I  _ know  _ what are you asking of me, and I just… I don’t like danger. M.O.N.S.T.E.R’s Ace is the strategist of his team, the one who will risk it all to beat his rivals because he has been born for that, you know? Created. But the real me is not that bold, I have learned that much. The real me got locked into a cell and was about to throw up at Commander’s Wu feet when he and that Doctor Lu started to talk about the army. I kinda want to puke, still, when I remember I don’t have my ID chips anymore. I feel like an exile, and I don’t want to.”

“So you  _ are _ leaving.”

“That’s what I’ve been wanting to believe, and the Dreamers know I should. But I--” Chanyeol could imagine it, that new life of his. A safe everyday, with a steady factory job and a name no one would know. People wouldn’t ask questions as long as he didn’t stand out. He wouldn’t be Dreamless, he wouldn’t be wanted, but he wouldn’t be the champion of M.O.N.S.T.E.R either. He wouldn’t be able to see Sehun or Junmyeon or Jongin, or even call his mother at New Year’s Eve anymore. Park Chanyeol would be gone forever, dead. And his life wouldn’t have meant a thing. “I am angry,” he admitted. “Deep down, I’m furious.”

Jongdae’s eyebrows rose. “Are you?”

“It’s always the same. I can’t work because the Dream says so. I have to go to the army because the Obelisk tells me to. I need to let go of everything I am to be safe just because someone in this city will shut me up if I keep calling myself by my old name. What the hell is this? It’s so  _ unfair.” _ Chanyeol felt sixteen again. He was the scrawny teenager who had put his IVR visor on and had Broken his way into a high security database only because he had been told he couldn’t. The one who had gotten caught because he didn’t give a fuck. But well, what if he did, now? What if he cared enough to keep his head up? “I don’t want to shape my life around what some sleeping prophets in a tower decide is the best for me. Them, or the Obelisk, or whoever it is who’s in charge. Even if it’s convenient, even if it is the simpler choice. I want to know what is going on, I want answers, I want-- Just  _ more  _ than all this cycle of crap we live in _. _ ”

When Chanyeol finally looked up, Jongdae looked serious. Like he was sizing him up, like Baekhyun did all the time but with no trace of mockery. “You may have a point,” he said, just before he broke into a smile. “I like you.”

Chanyeol breathed in. “You better,” he replied. “Because I think we’ll be working together from now on.”

\--

Of course, Baekhyun  _ was _ in Minseok’s office when Chanyeol went down to see him. If it hadn’t been for his pierced ear and lip, the chain that dangled from his mouth and the fierce, silvery eyes that instantly went up to his face when he entered the room, he would have looked so  _ normal _ , just another boy in sweatpants and a hoodie. But Chanyeol knew more - Chanyeol knew better. He considered leaving until Minseok was alone again but finally decided against it, focusing instead in his own posture, in the regular cadence of his breath.

“Ah, so Sleeping Beauty’s up,” commented Baekhyun. “I was already starting to think that I needed to go up and kiss you again to help you awaken. How’s it going?”

“I’m perfectly fine,” Chanyeol replied. He focused on Minseok, trying to leave Baekhyun in the part of his brain where he belonged; the same closed space where his instincts crawled, along with his doubts, his fear, the frenzied beat of his heart. “I’ve decided what to do.”

Minseok’s expression didn’t change. “Are you staying?” he asked. There was nothing in his voice beyond soft curiosity; no pressure, just interest.

“I am.”

“Why?”

“I want my freedom back, and you’re the only one offering it to me.”

This time, Minseok’s face warmed up into a smile. “I see. Welcome, then,” he stated, standing up to shake his hand from his side of the desk. Chanyeol accepted the gesture - his grip was firm, his fingers warm - and the boy felt welcome, calm for the two seconds that it took Baekhyun to speak.

“So you’re finally joining us,” he said. He had been leaning on the desk, elbows on the wood, and looked up at him with a mischievous little smile on his lips. “How unexpected of you. Welcome to the crew, though. How should be call you from now on?”

Chanyeol blinked. “Call  _ me?” _

“You know, you can’t be just  _ you _ once you’ve joined us. It’s the same for all of us: Codename Xiumin, Codename Chen, Codename Sigma. What are you going to be? Who?”

“He doesn’t need to choose that now,” Minseok cut in. “There’s still time left until we need to send him on missions. And besides, it’s not like the Obelisk doesn’t know him. He could just keep Ace as his codename.”

Baekhyun chuckled, straightening up to his full height, tilting his head like a grey-eyed, little bird. “Ace,” he repeated, like he was savoring the word, tasting the weight of it on his tongue. “Our first-rate expert. Number one. So is that it?”

Ace, the virtuoso. With his colorful clothes, and flame red hair, and the brands he sponsored tattooed all over his skin like a work of art. The one full stadiums cheered for. “No,” Chanyeol declined. “Not Ace.”

“Oh, really?” Baekhyun opened his eyes wide in feigned surprise.  _ What a liar,  _ Chanyeol thought. “But if that’s the case, can I make a suggestion?”

_ Now what?  _ “Tell me.” 

Baekhyun’s smile was all trouble. “Zero,” he replied. “You should go by Zero.”

_ “Sigma,”  _ Minseok reprimanded. 

“What?” the boy replied, nonchalantly. “Zero is a very versatile number. Depending on where you place it, it can mean absolutely nothing or multiply things tenfold. It’s fitting.” 

Jongdae had said that Baekhyun didn’t dislike him more than he did others, but he was starting to think he was a special case in his provocation list. It was like Baekhyun was waiting for a car crash, trying to tease him until he accelerated past every red light only because it amused him to see if Chanyeol would collide and explode.

But he wouldn’t give Baekhyun the pleasure, he wouldn’t let himself be offended. Not that day, not in the very moment that would change his life.

“Zero,” he repeated. Ace had been a performer, a crowd pleaser of red, yellow and gold, but his M.O.N.S.T.E.R Breaker persona was a binary of silver and black. Ace had been number one, but Zero was nothing -  _ meant _ nothing. It could be the last fraction of the second just before the first step, become the beginning as much as it could turn out to be the end. It was a name that suited him strangely well. “I like it. Thanks for the suggestion.”

Baekhyun laughed out loud. For such a living disgrace, he looked too fucking pretty when he did. “Awesome,” he said. “Welcome to our team, then. I hope you’re ready to rock,  _ Zero. _ ”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!
> 
> Comments are love, comments are life, so please let me know your opinion! :D


	5. Login 04

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It took me a while to finish this one, so I'm sorry about that. I hope you enjoy it though, and merry Christmas in advance!!

**Login 04**

 

Chanyeol had to wait for half a week until Minseok considered it was safe to let him go out. “It is for security purposes,” he had said, and the boy had listened, perhaps because he didn’t want to risk it, or maybe because he was too tired to argue. He had occupied his free time until that moment in exploring the rebel base: Jongdae had shown him the indoor gym at the basement, their two computer rooms - there even was a M.O.N.S.T.E.R IVR set in one - their training and shooting headquarters and the password-protected doors of the armory, and that had been fun at first but after his first couple of days Chanyeol had found out that he didn’t have much to do. At all.

Somewhere in the back of his mind, he  _ knew _ he needed all the Breaking practice he could get, but his black ice fiasco and the meeting with Commander Wu were still too fresh in his mind for him to slip another virtual reality helmet onto his head and just let go. He needed to relax now, shut his brain off for a while and stop overthinking. He had believed, after a day of restlessness, that perhaps the gym would help, but he had soon discovered that Baekhyun seemed to spend most of his free time there, and that he always appeared when Chanyeol thought he was safe and  _ alone. _

“Ah, but don’t mind me,” he had told him, right eyebrow raised, when Chanyeol had frozen at the door after a failed post-midnight trip to the gym and found him there, sweaty and smiley and as smug as if he knew he was ruining his well-thought sneaking plan _.  _ He was in sweatpants, and an old t-shirt, but of course he still kept his collection of piercings on. He probably slept and showered with those on, just in case he had to electroshock someone out of the bathroom. “There’s room for us both, why are you running away?”

“I just realized I’m tired.”

“Oh, come on, you just walked in. I won’t laugh at you, pinky promise. We all sweated like pigs and had no stamina when we started training, you know? You don’t have to lie.”

“My stamina is perfectly okay,” Chanyeol had protested. He hadn’t failed to notice the glint of amusement in Baekhyun’s eyes, the sheen of perspiration on his skin.

“If you say so,” he had replied, shrugging and pushing his black, damp hair out of his face as he turned around, his back to Chanyeol. He looked so relaxed, so sated and calm, like nothing under the Dome could actually make him lose that little shade of a smirk on his lips, and Chanyeol felt the reckless urge to barge into the room and challenge him, at something, at  _ anything _ , just to see a flash of surprise on his face. In the end, he decided against it and just went back to his room - after all, he had never liked losing.

So he had spent his days in restlessness, counting the minutes until Minseok would consider the Dome safe enough for him to go out, and anticipating the moment when he would leave that place and be away from Baekhyun’s close proximity, even if it was only for a couple of hours.

So he had been ecstatic when finally, the morning had come when his new boss called him to his office. “We need to get you new chips,” Minseok had said. “To replace the ones Sigma took off you, so you can safely move around town as well.”

Of course, Chanyeol hadn’t thought he would be going alone. What he had not expected, however, was to see Baekhyun waiting for him at the entryway that afternoon, casually leaning on the door and with his hands in his pockets. He had thought it would be Jongdae; in his inner mind, he had almost been certain.

_ Almost. _

“Hi there, Zero,” Baekhyun had greeted. “Ready for a little tour?”

_ No,  _ he would have said. “Lead the way.”

Leave it to Baekhyun, to turn a perfectly blissful day into upcoming trouble. Chanyeol didn’t even know why he had thought for a moment that his trip companion  _ wouldn’t _ be him. But then again, what could he do?

\--

Baekhyun had taken him to the Twelfth Ward.

It was a residential district, like Thirteenth, but its outer suburbs were dirtier and poorer, their streets narrow and the buildings crammed together under the opaque glass wall of the Dome. There were neons there too, bursts of yellow, blue and magenta affixed to the the walls around them, lighted signs hanging from the windows of second and third floors like rusty reminders of older cities, other eras - a huge contrast to the big, neat, shiny advertisements of the Fifth and Sixth Wards. Everything in that place seemed smaller, more irregular, arranged with no semblance of order: the further you moved away from the white Obelisk tower in the center of town, the darker shadows you found. No one who could afford to pay for a better place would stay in an area so close to the unknown, outer world, so only the invalid remained next door to the wall. The ones who worked in the factories, the non troublesome outcasts, the old men who had grown tired of their Fate and the kids who didn’t have one.

Dreamless like Chanyeol was. Degraded as he would had been, had he not proven good enough to be sponsored in the videogame everyone in town loved to play.

That was over now, however, and he wondered what he was, what he had become. He was a wanted man, but did that make him another Fateless outcast now, or was he another thing entirely? What was Baekhyun supposed to be, anyway?

“Watch out, will you?” the other boy called out to him. He seemed normal enough, just another alternative kid in faded jeans, a snapback and a black jacket. “This floor gets slippery when wet, I wouldn’t want you to fall down on your face while walking.”

It hadn’t been that long since the Weather Control Department had programmed rain the last time, but the air was hotter around there and the streets felt dirtier, more unhygienic in a sense Chanyeol couldn’t quite identify. They had seen a Sanitary Department employee minutes ago, cleaning the pavement with a water hose. He hadn’t looked at them twice, even though Chanyeol was half-hiding under a black, oversized hoodie and Baekhyun was wearing one of his usual face masks from the nose down.

But well, perhaps they didn’t look suspicious, even if Chanyeol felt like the most shady-looking person on earth. Maybe they only had the regular appearance that any outer suburb badass kid would spot. Baekhyun surely resembled one, at least.

“Are we there yet?” Chanyeol asked, if only because he missed the sound of his own voice. “We have been walking for two hours.”

“That’s what happens when we can’t exactly take any form of public transport because you don’t have an ID. We would have an alarm ringing on us the moment you tried to cross the metro gates without a chip to scan. And that would be really inconvenient considering your face is already on ad screens, you know?”

Chanyeol blinked. “What? Is it?”

Grinning, Baekhyun kept walking forward, gesturing for him to follow. Chanyeol had just catched up to him and was about to open his mouth to ask when the other boy stopped, shrugged and pointed somewhere above their heads.

“There you have it,” he said. “It was on my comm a while ago, and it  _ is _ still on air. The Obelisk is doing a great job at making you look all obedient and honorable. How nice of them.”

“Ah?”

They had arrived to a small crossroad square between narrow streets. It was small and surprisingly empty compared to the great avenues Chanyeol had grown in - only scattered groups of people passing by and almost no cars, a chain curry restaurant in one corner and one small cafe on the second floor at the other side of the road - but there was a newscreen over the wall at their right. Modest in size, almost obsolete but working, and  _ with his face on it. _

‘M.O.N.S.T.E.R superstar to perform his duty in the army outside of the Dome’ the caption at the bottom said while a pretty, dark haired announcer girl spoke words that were too far away for Chanyeol to hear. They were using a photo of himself as background, one of the pictures taken when his team had won the game tournament, months ago. He had been smiling in that one, his arm thrown over Sehun’s shoulders, but the program had cut the image so his friend’s face was not shown.

“What are they saying?”

“Wanna hear?”

Baekhyun had a watch comm, one of those models with a tiny, tactile controller and an individual holographic screen. He handed Chanyeol one of his inalambric earphones, then turned the device on to sync it with the official news feed.

“Here you have it,” he whispered. ”Here we go.”

The voice of the young announcer filled Chanyeol’s ears as she spoke, her face expressionless, her tone neutral. “--as reported by Government sources. Park ‘Ace’ Chanyeol, who had remained Dreamless until age twenty-two, privately retired from award-winning Team Exodus to fulfil his Destiny as a soldier in the army outside of the Dome. While his team has chosen not to reveal any video announcement, a written statement has been published on the player’s Network social profile, bidding his fans farewell and wishing--”

“So I have written a goodbye letter,” Chanyeol muttered, snorting. “Telling everyone how happy I am they send me to die, huh?”

“You bet. I haven’t read it, though, but I’m sure it’s very patriotic. Dreamers save us from the general public even thinking that the avatar they have been cheering for onscreen is controlled by a rebellious traitor,” Baekhyun said that two last words as if they were some sort of compliment. “Do you want me to look for it?”

“Not really.” Chanyeol swallowed, looking at the delicate face of the announcer on Baekhyun’s comm. She looked so small inside of the hologram, repeating the words someone else had instructed her to read. “I-- You know? My sister is a news anchor too. Just not at this time of the day; she works at night. She got her Destiny revealed to her when she was barely fifteen. She was so happy; we all were.”

Chanyeol had half-expected Baekhyun to laugh at his sudden burst of sincerity, but the other boy just nodded, his eyes on the screen. “Younger than you?”

“Nah. She’s older.”

“The Obelisk has probably contacted your family to tell them how good you are, and why wouldn’t they believe it? You’re their boy, and they think you’re fulfilling your divine role, and that keeps them safe. It’s better for them this way, and better for you.”

“Is it?” Chanyeol dared a glance at Baekhyun while he stared at his holographic screen. His eyes were hard, with the metallic glint of quicksilver, and there were faint creases in the skin around them, the kind of tiny expression marks you got while you frowned rather than while you laughed. He blinked once, almost lazily, and tilted his head to look up at Chanyeol, and right then the boy realized that the news about him had ended, and that the announcer was now talking about something else, a new Dreamer girl having been found, and how happy the authorities were with the discovery.

“You know that you can’t see them,” Baekhyun whispered.

Chanyeol blinked, stammered. “What?”

“Your family. Not now, if that’s what you were thinking.”

“I-I know that. I was just--”

“You will have more than enough time to go cry to your mom once we solve this.  _ If _ we solve this. Or you could just brag instead, if we win, tell everyone you’re the dangerous man who helped us to unmask the Obelisk. The world loves dangerous people.” Baekhyun turned the newsfeed off, the holographic screen dissolving into a drawing of the crossroads at Fifth Ward before turning itself off. “Don’t you, at least?”

“I have more than enough danger in my life right now to go looking for more, thank you very much. So no, not really. I like good people.”

“If you say so…” Baekhyun replied, voice just a little amused. He looked around then, forgetting Chanyeol for a moment and checking the streets that splitted from the crossroads. “But we’re close.  _ And _ we are late. And we shouldn’t keep Doc waiting. Wouldn’t be good for you, that.”

Baekhyun still seemed to be having fun. Chanyeol had decided that bad things happened to him whenever he did. Most times, at least. “That  _ Doc _ is the one who’s going to help me with my ID?” 

“Oh, yeah, you’ll see. He’s such a charming guy.”

\--

Apparently, Baekhyun's idea of charming involved an apartment in the basement of an old building with the walls painted in black and humanoid limbs in display everywhere.

The first thing that caught Chanyeol’s eye when he opened the door to the main room was a severed leg on a table, pink and soft and so human looking that he  _ screamed _ . He was already turning around when Baekhyun grabbed him by the wrist, his fingers warm and steady and keeping him in place.

"Don't go raising your voice like that, it's rude," he told him.

"There's a  _ leg _ over there."

"I saw it. And?"

"And? Where the hell is the rest of the person that should be attached to it?"

Baekhyun had removed his mask when he had walked into the room. He pursed his lips, as relaxed as if he saw dismembered corpses every day. "There's no person," he said. "That's a bionic leg, Zero. That's our host's main field of expertise: prosthesis. I thought you knew."

Oh.  _ Oh. _ "How was I supposed to know if you didn't tell me?"

It seemed obvious in a sense, now that Baekhyun had said it out loud. More limbs were neatly kept in display racks, protected by thick glass, all of them too flawless to have been cut away from a living body. Once you inspected them, as Chanyeol did, hands kept in his pockets and lips pressed thin, it was apparent that every arm, hand and leg was an artisan’s work, the masterpiece of a renowned dollmaker. The display cases were on every wall, showcasing their content like art pieces in a museum, and every single prosthesis had unblemished skin in different shades - hairless and smooth, nails perfectly manicured, bionic muscles well-shaped below. Chanyeol was sure that the leg on the table would feel soft and warm and human if he just stretched his hand and touched it, and he found himself looking away, keeping his eyes fixed on the floor, a wave of unwelcome nausea making its way up his throat.

It was too cold in that place, and everything was too dark. He had wondered before, how someone would be able to produce an ID chip that was well constructed enough to deceive the Obelisk scanner, but now he wasn’t too sure about wanting to find out.

“Sigma,” a voice said, so close to Chanyeol that the boy flinched, so hard that he bumped into the table. “Your friend looks a little green. I would appreciate it if he didn’t vomit in my waiting room.”

“Ah, excuse him. He’s our new boy, the one the boss told you about. He’s a little green in every sense.”

Chanyeol didn’t know what he had been expecting to find - an old man, perhaps, the kind of mad scientist who starred in all those Old Era horror films, with his white shaggy hair and messy clothes - but he found himself looking at a boy. He couldn’t be much older than himself, and was much smaller than him, shorter even than Baekhyun, who barely reached up to Chanyeol’s nose, but there was an aura of cold severity around him. He was neat, immaculate in an austere kind of way, his hair cut short, his skin pale and his garments full black.

“Nice leg you have here, by the way,” was saying Baekhyun, smiling like the best of good boys. “It’s what you’re working in?”

“It was a sample for a client. It’s not operative, and it won’t be,” the other man replied. He had big, round eyes, ink-colored and cold, like a doll’s. “They won’t be going forward with the deal. It was apparently too expensive.”

“You are always expensive,” replied Baekhyun, elbows on the table and cheeky grin on his lips, “Kyungsoo.”

“I’ll charge you for the leg if you break it, Sigma, so don’t touch.”

“I wasn’t touching.”

“But you were planning to; I know you.” The boy’s voice remained monotonous, even as his attention shifted from Baekhyun to Chanyeol and he studied him, gaze shifting from his hands - still holding onto the table - to his clothes and then his face, reflexively, considering him. “As I know you. Ace, the M.O.N.S.T.E.R champion.”

“You know M.O.N.S.T.E.R?” Chanyeol mumbled, before realizing himself how stupid the question was.

“Who doesn’t know it, in this town? Don’t be naïve, every little kid knows how to play nowadays. Such a perfect strategic battle simulator and it has been ruined by children and Breakers alike. What a shame.”

Baekhyun laughed, the sound of it low in his throat, before Chanyeol had time to say anything. “Oh, come on, don’t make Mr. Breaker here feel bad. Using the M.O.N.S.T.E.R system for trouble is the only thing he excels at. We recruited him for his skill.”

“You know my opinion about exploiting the faults in a program and reconfiguring it  to hack and to steal. Such a waste, when that energy could be focusing in repairing its flaws, in creating something new. But what do I know.” Kyungsoo shook his head, glared at Chanyeol’s hands until the boy finally released his grip on the table, then nodded at him. “The M.O.N.S.T.E.R hack mod is quite an unreliable system, if you ask me. Difficult to predict and to control, with too many random variables to take into account. Although I’ve been told that you have mastered it.”

The words had the subtle ring of accusation. “Well, I guess I have?”

Still leaning on the table, Baekhyun raised his eyebrows at Kyungsoo. “You don’t need to lecture us on morality. I suppose that the boss told you what we came here for: Zero here needs new ID chips.”

“Zero?” Kyungsoo repeated.

“My name’s Chanyeol. Zero is just my codename.”

“I see,” Kyungsoo said, then. “And evidently I know why you came here for. Everything has been prepared for the insertion in the operating room, so if you would come with me…”

Chanyeol swallowed. “Operating room?” he mumbled. He felt one of Baekhyun’s hands on his back, gently pushing him forward.

“It’s just the chip you need, nothing’s gonna happen to you,” he whispered. If he was trying to be comforting - which Chanyeol doubted - he was not accomplishing his goal at all. When Chanyeol turned around to tell him, he caught Baekhyun grinning, the fingers of his left hand still on his back, his other hand reaching out to graze the flesh of the bionic leg on the table in a slow, deliberate gesture. “Wow, soft,” he commented, blinking a grey eye before he urged him forward.

Praised be the Dream, at least Kyungsoo didn’t caught sight of Baekhyun being troublesome. Chanyeol didn’t exactly want him to be angry at them, especially when that boy already appeared to be in a perpetual emotional state between grumpiness and inexpressiveness, had to insert two working chips under his skin and was planning to do so in a surgery room that looked like a torture dungeon straight out of an horror film.

Or perhaps that was just him. Chanyeol had never liked hospitals.

His whole apartment was painted in black, but the room where Kyungsoo took them was blindingly white, aseptic, with the air reeking of disinfectant and a seat that looked eerily similar to a dentist’s chair in the middle of the place. There were leather straps at the sides of it, Chanyeol noticed, restraints for the neck, ankles and wrists.

“Would you go over there?” Kyungsoo requested. The boy nodded and did as he was told, gingerly sitting at the edge of the chair and swallowing hard as the other man attached four circular sucker-like meters to his skin - two to his temples, another two to the sides of his neck.

“We’ll take the best IDs you have,” Baekhyun commented then, moving until he was right beside Chanyeol, one hand on his shoulder, but his eyes on Kyungsoo. “We need a chip that doesn’t give his identity away when he moves around town, but that’s not all. He must be able to navigate the Network with no problem, and no traces.”

“I am a prosthetics engineer, Sigma,” replied Kyungsoo. “I make artificial limbs react to the human brain. I know much more about programming than any of the good-for-nothing government workers who configure these chips. You wouldn’t be here if you didn’t already know I am worth what I charge you for.” He made Chanyeol bend his head down and placed two cold fingers at the back of his neck. “Who extracted his previous ID? What a messy job.”

The unmistakable sound of Baekhyun’s laughter came from his right. “It was done by yours truly, in the middle of a jail break. But what can I say, desperate times call for desperate measures.”

Kyungsoo mumbled something as he walked away, and Chanyeol remained in place, eyes still fixed on the white floor and his own shoes as he heard the other man moving around and the chilling sound of metal against metal.

“Have you or Xiumin considered enhancing the boy?” Kyungsoo commented after a couple of seconds of heavy silence. “It could also be done, if you want to; he wouldn’t be the first Breaker I have optimized. We could install a connection port at the back of his head, and combined with the IVR helmet system, it would grant him ultra fast access to the system. It would be--”

Taking a shaky breath, Chanyeol rose his head. He had been barely conscious of the fact that Kyungsoo was talking about  _ him _ until the meaning sank in and he felt the coldness of nausea churning his guts once more. “ _ What?  _ No! I just-- You’re not installing a connection port in my head!”

“It was only a proposal to improve your performance. If you don’t want to…”

“Of course I don’t want to! Who the hell would want an internet cable, or whatever it is, plugged into their heads like they were--” He shook his head, trying to find the words, angry at Kyungsoo, and even at Baekhyun, for starting that whole conversation like he wasn’t sitting just there, having to hear how they pretended to turn him into a cyborg just for  _ enhancement _ . He didn’t realized that he was now standing until he felt Baekhyun’s hand around his wrist.

“Zero. Calm down. We haven’t agreed on any kind of surgery on you.”

“Well, I am glad, because I’m not doing it.”

“You don’t need to. But you’re making all these machines beep, and we still have two ID chips to actually put into you, so breathe and sit down, okay?”

“I’m not letting you tie me up onto that chair.”

“Very well.”

“You mean it?”

“You’re so nervous.” Baekhyun bent his back to be at his eye-level when Chanyeol sat down again. “This whole thing doesn’t even hurt that much, I promise. I got my ID chips re-inserted too, years ago, and you don’t even need surgery. It is done with a pistol, like when you get yours ears pierced for a ring. One pull at the trigger, it stings a little and it is done.”

_ I never got my ears pierced,  _ Chanyeol thought. “It’s not that,” he said. Kyungsoo was behind him, spreading some kind of cool cream on the skin at the back of his neck. He didn’t feel like looking at him at all. “I just… Don’t exactly like implants. Not on me, I-- Only soldiers, outlaws and criminals use those kind of things by choice, and I might be a wanted man by now, but I want to be able to go back to-- I don’t wanna be like--”

“Be like what?” Baekhyun asked. He inched closer, his breath warm on Chanyeol’s skin. His eyes were clearly silver in that light, metallic, intense and inhuman. In comparison, his smile was too soft, more unnatural that the glint of steel in his irises.

“I didn’t mean it like that,” Chanyeol hurried to blurt. “Your eyes. They look good on you.”

Baekhyun made a little, amused sound and trapped his silver lip ring under his teeth. And Chanyeol felt the danger alarms ringing somewhere in the back of his head and parted his lips to say that  _ whatever Baekhyun was thinking, that wasn’t it at all _ , when he felt something cold resting against the nape of his neck and heard a metallic click.

The next thing he knew was that the world had exploded into a burst of white pain, and that he couldn’t move, couldn’t scream, couldn’t even  _ breathe. _ He was barely conscious of his body falling forward towards the floor, and of Baekhyun jumping to the side before the dead weight of his limbs pushed him down with it.

_ So that’s it,  _ Chanyeol thought, half-unconscious, eyes unfocused.  _ I know too much, so they’re gonna kill me. They will electroshock me to death and use my remains to build clockwork automatons. _

He could feel the coldness of the floor against his back, the pulse of the skin at the back of his neck, burning as if scalded. There was only blank nothingness beyond until he felt a warm weight over him, nimble fingers on his forehead and a blurred human head refusing to make itself focused. He tried to speak, but only managed to produce a pitiful, gurgling noise.

“--necessary to insert the chip without making him lie down?” a voice was protesting. “I know he whines like a crybaby, but he was able to Break into a high security database from a gaming computer by himself, so I would prefer if he doesn’t crack his head open against your floor.”

“He needed to be relaxed for the main chip to adjust into his system,” another voice replied. “A little fall won’t kill him. The M.O.N.S.T.E.R mod just might. You’re signing that poor boy up for quite the dangerous job, don’t try to burden me with his wellbeing.”

“Oh, come on, don’t pull that card on me.” Chanyeol blinked and Baekhyun came into focus, his head turned up and away, the silver chain of his lip piercing tingling as he spoke. “The Obelisk has played with Zero too, he has signed up for all this on his own free will because he realizes it is necessary. As you do, and I do. I will sacrifice anything to avenge Yixing and all the others that were wronged. We are getting our Fate stolen; I’ve got Destiny on my side for this.”

“Aren’t you giving Destiny too much credit?”

Baekhyun moved to reply, and Chanyeol groaned when he felt his nails scrape his cheek. The other boy’s eyes widened in surprise for the fraction of a second, but he was all composed and pretty again when he looked down at him.

“Ah, so Sleeping Beauty’s up,” he said. “Seeing you collapsed on the floor is starting to become a classic of ours. You okay?”

“I-- I, yes?” Chanyeol struggled to sit down, to ask the question that lurked in the back of his mind, but it was difficult to concentrate with Baekhyun still practically straddling him, eyes on his face and fingers over the swollen skin of his nape.

“Sorry about that. Apparently it is necessary for the main chip to shock you a bit to sync with your brain. Will you forgive us?”

“Are you really apologizing?”

“Don’t you want me to?” Chanyeol actually wasn’t sure. Expecting Baekhyun to be sorry was like hoping a lion would be apologetic before chopping your leg off. “Come on, let’s sit up for your wrist chip. I think Kyungsoo will go easier on you for that one.”

Chanyeol still wanted to ask, but lost his chance as Baekhyun helped him up and guided him towards the seat. To his own credit, Baekhyun had been right about the secondary chip - its sting was much more bearable when Kyungsoo used his silver pistol to insert it under his skin. And it felt comforting in a sense, to feel the square shape of it there, a familiar bump on his wrist, only barely noticeable when he traced the corners with his thumb.

“Everything seems in order,” mumbled Kyungsoo. He had once more connected the sensors to his head and neck, and was consulting streams of data on the holographic screen built into the closest wall. “The chip is correctly configured, and your new ID has been integrated into the Government system. In a sense, it works like a virus: the name in display for the official scanners will change every time you use the chips. You’ll be as anonymous as anyone can be in this town, untraceable. Unless, of course, you get caught.”

“I’ll try to remain a free man, thanks,” replied Chanyeol, even though he wasn’t completely sure that Kyungsoo wanted him to speak.

“Tell Sigma to teach you how to use a gun. A non-virtual one,” the other man said, almost mindlessly, before turning to Baekhyun. “That is all with the boy, he’s good to go. But I believe Minseok told him there was another thing that you needed?”

Chanyeol, who had been busy trying to remove the sensors of his skin, gazed up to look at Baekhyun, who had his arms crossed and his head slightly tilted. For the first time since they had walked into that place, the smile on his lips was nothing but the shadow of a curve at the tip of his lips.

“There is something I wanted to ask,” he said. “Do you have any information about what Project Morpheus is?”

Chanyeol froze. Kyungsoo considered them both. “Morpheus?” he repeated, letting the foreign syllables out of his mouth slowly, as if he was testing the sound of them. “Like the Old Era ancient god of Dreams? That is a good name for a project. Obelisk, I assume?”

“The name was among the data Zero retrieved when he breached into their systems. High security containment measures got activated on us as soon as he Broke in, so I am sure there was something there that our friends in the silver tower would kill to protect. Quite literally, in fact: he barely made it out.” Baekhyun sighed. “So. You know nothing?”

“I do get involved with  _ you _ , but I never dig deeper. Let it be you if someone has to get killed for the cause.”

“How considerate of you,” Baekhyun snorted, resting one hand on Chanyeol’s chair, fingers curling and uncurling over the white, medical sheet that covered the seat. “But if you know nothing and I know nothing that means we are stuck, and that is something we cannot allow. You have contacts, a network of your own, can’t you ask for me?”

Kyungsoo remained in silence for a moment, his expression stoic. “I could,” he finally conceded. “Under your own name.”

“My name is a good bait, huh? It lures everyone in.” Baekhyun shrugged again, a full body wave from the shoulders down, liquid. “But that’s fine. Let them come.”

“I’ll provide the questions, then. I’ll let you know if someone answers.”

It was what Baekhyun had wanted, and Chanyeol was starting to understand he always found the way to get what he was looking for. “ _ When _ someone answers,” he heard him correct, looking oh-so-smug. “Let’s keep it positive, okay? For good luck.”

\--

Chanyeol’s new ID worked at the ticket gates of the metro station. He would have denied it to Baekhyun, had the other boy asked, but a very pessimistic part of his brain had been expecting a high-pitched alarm to start ringing as soon as he scanned his wrist in the reader. As soon as he did, however, the gates just opened and the people at station continued being as ignorant of its struggles as they had been, so he just walked in, Baekhyun in tow.

“Whose bank account is this thing bound to?” he asked, watching the amount of his ticket be discounted from a blinking red number, considerably higher than the total amount of his old savings had been.

“One of ours, I think? It’s not important. Kyungsoo has made sure that anything traceable, that much I know, and I never ask further.” Baekhyun grinned at him, much more unworried and happy than Chanyeol had ever seen him. “He looks like a mad dollmaker, but he’s a genius programmer. A person I respect, you know, and I don’t usually mean that when I say it, but in his case I do. I think he only likes prosthetic limbs because it’s difficult as hell to make them work.”

“How does he manage to make IDs, though? I thought the materials they used for the chips weren’t easy to come across.”

Baekhyun looked back at him, already following the couple of other passengers towards the platform. “I wouldn’t ask,” he told him. “But I think he doesn’t make them from scratch. He recycles the old ones he can get.”

“Recycles…?”

“I told you before, he has contacts!  _ And _ you don’t want to know!”

Baekhyun was already on the escalator towards the platform, so Chanyeol rushed towards him. It was still early, that time of the day between lunch time and the scheduled hour for office workers to leave their desks, so the station was mostly empty. There was an old woman, reading her digital newspaper on a bench, a mother and his kid, a couple of high school girls in their neat, dark uniforms who looked at them and giggled. Fearing recognition, Chanyeol tried to hide even further under the hood of his sweater; Baekhyun, however, waved at them and  _ blinked. _

The method proved to be surprisingly effective, because the girls giggled again and rushed towards the other end of the platform.

It didn’t take much longer for the train to arrive to the station, the gates opening almost silently for them to board. It hadn't been that long when he had hopped into a similar metro car with Sehun, mourning his broken comm glasses and not even looking at the ad screens on the ceiling or the variety of people standing around him. Now the ride felt different - like a privilege, like something dangerous, like a small act of rebellion.

The train was also practically empty at that time, so Baekhyun and he were the only ones sitting in that corner of the car. A M.O.N.S.T.E.R ad was playing on the tunnel walls, the holographic projectors unraveling a story of battles and bloodshed and honor as they moved forward, synchronized with the screens at the ceiling for a kaleidoscope of changing lights and sound.

_ M.O.N.S.T.E.R, the paragon of skill and teamwork,  _ Chanyeol thought.  _ The place where everything and everyone whose life doesn’t depend on yours is out to kill you. _

“Such epic promotion,” muttered Baekhyun at his side. He still seemed in good spirits, his voice devoid of its usual sharp, metallic edge. “Bread and games for the masses. It looks so immersive, though. Technology as it finest.”

“Baekhyun,” Chanyeol said. They were alone now, kind of, with no Kyungsoo there to distract him, no other rebels to propose him to fight for a greater cause. And it was not like he  _ wanted _ to know for personal reasons, but he needed to ask now that he could, because Baekhyun was his ally, and the only thing he was certain of was that it was necessary to know what your teammates fought for, if you wanted to win the match. “What’s in for you in all this, exactly? I just-- I understand you want to watch your enemies to burn, but it’s not because you want the truth, like Minseok, or because you want to restore order. So what for, exactly? You have mentioned that your Destiny was stolen, but what was your fate in the first place? Who is that Yixing person?”

Baekhyun turned to look at him, eyebrows raised, as the M.O.N.S.T.E.R ad finished with a explosion of light and the music faded into silence. “Oh wow,” he teased. “So you like getting into other people’s business, don’t you?”

“This whole thing is hardly ‘not my business’ when you want me to Break for it, and for you.” Baekhyun didn’t move an inch, so Chanyeol decided he would not pull back, either. He stared at him in the eye, lips pressed thin, right hand closed into a fist on the space between them. 

“So that’s how it is,” Baekhyun said after a while. He lowered his eyelids, all falsely demure; silver flickering under black lashes. “Okay, I’ll tell you what’s in for me: I’m here for revenge.”

It hardly came as a surprise, but Chanyeol could feel himself shivering nonetheless. “I would be afraid of you,” he found himself saying. “If I was them.”

“Luckily for you, you’re not.” Baekhyun laughed, the sound so soft. “No need to be scared: I’ll protect you. Don’t you at least trust me with that?”

Chanyeol’s breath hitched in his throat. His mouth felt dry. “I-- Actually,  _ I don’t _ ,” he blurted out.

There was a beep over their heads and the train shook a bit as it stopped. The doors slid open and group of high school boys entered the car as Baekhyun’s eyes widened in surprise, then crinkled around the corners when he let out a guffaw.

“Oh, my,” he said. “Then I’ll have to work hard so you do. Since you’re going to be Breaking for me and all.” He paused, shooking his head, and he looked almost lovely right then and there. The lion, just before he bit your leg off. “Although perhaps in the meantime you should listen to Kyungsoo’s advice and learn to fire a real, non-virtual gun after all. Wouldn’t you love to try that?” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll try to have the next chapter up by the end of this month or the beginning of January, so if you liked this one, please leave kudos and comment if you can!! :D I'm always really thankful for all the support!! 
> 
> See you in the next update huhu


	6. Login 05

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So here I am again! Finally it took me my regular month to update but in the meantime I finished my Reaper!AU fic. Go check it out on my profile if you have time! :DDD
> 
> But then, here goes chapter 5! I hope you enjoy it a lot!

**Login 05**

Chanyeol had almost forgotten how nauseous one could feel once the M.O.N.S.T.E.R virtual reality landscapes gave way to the real world. His body was as used to it as it could be - the queasiness he could deal with and the dizziness never lasted more than a few seconds - but his mind was a different thing. Everything seemed always so slow, his limbs heavy and awkward and clumsy, his brain disoriented. 

The first thing he realized when he came around was that he was sweating, his skin damp under the IVR visor and his hands clammy where they rested, interlocked, on his stomach. He was lying down, in a place too uncomfortable to be his good old sofa, back at his apartment. 

_ Because you’re not there, remember?  _ a little voice whispered at the back of his head.  _ For the same reason you’re not playing with your old M.O.N.S.T.E.R account anymore. _

He unfastened the visor and removed it from his face, blinking when the bright, white light in the room hit his eyes. That IVR set was located at the rebel secondary computer room, a tiny place with sealed windows and the walls painted cream yellow. There were smudges on them, the square, darkened marks that paintings or posters would leave after being hanged there for a long time and then removed, the outline of furniture that was long gone. Now there were cables on the floor, an old plasma screen hanging just in front of his eyes and the single, reclining chair where he was sitting. A place as austere as they came, thought Chanyeol with a sight, inhaling before he stood up in wobbly legs.

M.O.N.S.T.E.R was many things, but it had never been a merciful game for those inconstant enough to not keep a routine, so it had taken him hours to go back to his usual level of skill when connected back to the official servers. It had felt odd to be back at the virtual arenas with silver-white hair instead of red and no sponsor names on his arms and back, but the anonymity had made him free. He couldn’t risk to reveal his identity with flashy plays, so he had done his best to be lethally precise; he wasn’t wearing the avatar of a champion, and thus he had fought to prove his worth in every game. He had needed the practice, so he had trained, and there he was when it was over, with heavy limbs and a brain in overdrive, and static electricity tingling in his fingertips.

_ What time is it?  _ he wondered. It had been late afternoon when he had signed in for his first game, but once he stepped out into the hallway, he realized all the lights were already off. The silence and quiet were welcoming, a promise of a full night of sleep if he just walked back to his room, but he took the set of stairs leading down once he reached the landing, descending slowly into the basement.

There was no flicker of yellow light coming from under the door of the gym, and Chanyeol let out a shaky breath of relief. He hesitated for a moment, considering his options, but he finally walked past it until the grey, closed doors at the end of the corridor. After he had scanned his wrist chip, they fell open with a swoosh, revealing the black walls and white illuminated ceiling of the shooting room. The doors slid back in place as soon as he was inside, alone and slightly apprehensive on the pale concrete floor. He had only been there a couple of times before, both of them with Jongdae, and he hadn’t tried to shoot, not seriously.

_ There’s no need for you to try right now, if you still feel unsure about all this. Rest these days, go back to M.O.N.S.T.E.R first; you’re here to Break, not to shoot,  _ the other boy had told him. And he had a point, Chanyeol supposed, with his take-one-thing-at-a-time mentality; but so did Kyungsoo and Baekhyun, and Chanyeol knew from experience that casual players were never the ones to win the match.

He had been postponing that enough, and he felt too clear-headed to crawl into bed, so that was as good a time as any to start with that - to know how his real fingers would feel pulling the trigger of a gun. Perhaps the noise and the strain would tire him enough to sleep.

There were three shooting booths in the room, so he walked to the one further away from the door. An individual screen was embedded on the wall, blackened into standby, and three weapons were sheathed below - an old fashioned revolver, a beam gun and a blaster. He considered all of them, even if deep down he already knew which one he was going to choose. Ace had been known for holding his own with different types of weapons, but there was one kind he excelled at, his signature gun.

He felt something akin to familiarity when his hand closed around the handle of the blaster, pulling to release it from the place where it was kept in place into the wall. The shape of it he recognized, his index resting against the trigger like it had pulled it a thousand times, but the weight and the coldness felt wrong, like someone had taken the memory of something he clearly remembered and reshaped it, blurring some details and forging them anew, a new blade from old iron. His M.O.N.S.T.E.R persona knew how to land a headshot in mid-air; Park Chanyeol had never thought he would ever need to hold anything that could actually and really hurt another human being.

“Okay then,” he whispered. The screen in front of him had come to life as soon as he had unsheathed the weapon, and was now blinking in white and blue, waiting for his input. Jongdae had explained how to program a custom training session when he had showed the room to him, but Chanyeol had been too preoccupied with his general situation to pay full attention, so he went for the pre-made ones. “Beginners 0.1 Program. Analogic. That sounds quite alright.”

The screen beeped as soon as he confirmed his selection, and he turned to his right just in time to see a human-shaped target descend from the ceiling at the back of the room. Vital points were marked in red - the heart, the stomach, the head - blinking spots in the distance, so bright against the dark walls and the white light that came through the ceiling, so still on the immobile dummy doll.

He rose his gun, gripping harder when he felt the cold steel against the skin, the strain of his arm when he held it still. He aimed, clenched his teeth and then shot. The energy blast that flashed out from his weapon was crimson red and turned the air around him surprisingly hot, and Chanyeol restrained the urge to step back. He blinked and looked at the target, gun still in hand and tried again, then cursed. He had aimed at the chest twice, and for a second he had thought he could make it. His first shot had landed on the dummy’s leg. The second one bounced on the wall until it sizzled into nothingness.

The screen lightened up one more time, showing the single digit of a score. “One point,” a robotic female voice stated. “General result: deficient. Deficient.”

It sounded much more charming when said aloud, he had to admit. “Why, thank you,” groaned Chanyeol. “I also appreciate my efforts.”

“We have a motion training program too, if you feel like you’re up for a challenge after you master what you’re doing,” a voice added then, right behind him. Chanyeol was milliseconds away from dropping his gun, and felt actually proud of his self-control for not screaming in surprise as he turned around. “There’s more than one target at the same time and they move and all. It’s much funnier.”

“Yeah, because what I need right now is for the targets to move. Maybe I’ll hit one if they do,” he grunted.

“Well, you  _ did  _ hit one, Zero boy. You got one point, all for yourself.”

“The computer called me deficient.”

Chanyeol didn’t know when he had exactly arrived, but there he was - Baekhyun, with his back against the wall behind him, an amused glint in his eyes. He looked so relaxed that the boy almost felt jealous. “Could had been worse,” Baekhyun commented. “A zero score for Zero.”

“Praised the Dream that it didn’t happen. But what are you doing here?” Chanyeol asked with a sigh. “It’s…” He stole a glance at the shooting booth screen. “It’s 3 a.m.”

“I know. I was taking a shower after my own training session, then saw the lights on in this room and came to check.” Baekhyun must had seen something in his face, because he laughed, and then added. “We have a shower room in this floor, at the back of the gym, didn’t you know? I just don’t like walking around reeking of sweat, so I use it. I’m probably the only one who does.”

Not that Chanyeol cared - at all - but he guessed it was good to know. “I see.”

“But what about you, then? What are you doing here at this hour?” Baekhyun inquired. Chanyeol parted his lips and, after a pause, gestured towards the gun in his hand and the room that they were in, rather hopelessly. “Praised be the Dream, not that! What I meant is that I thought you weren’t going to listen to my sensible advice and train.”

“Well, I just decided to start.”

“When everyone else is sleeping?” Baekhyun pointed out with a smirk.

“I finished with my M.O.N.S.T.E.R practice a while ago and I didn’t feel like going to bed.”

“So we’re both nocturnal animals, you and I. That’s interesting.” He shrugged when Chanyeol looked at him in silence, blaster a dead weight on his hand. “But then now, don’t let my presence here distract you. Keep doing what you were doing and don’t mind me.”

For a moment, Chanyeol felt tempted to give up and say he was already leaving, but he was sure that Baekhyun would have known how much of a dirty liar he was, so he turned back towards the shooting field and aimed.

He tried his best, he really did, but he knew the shot was ill-aimed as soon as he pulled the trigger. The beam of his blaster bounced once and twice on the wall, then on the ceiling, until it finally struck the concrete floor like a red flash of lightning.

_ Oh, fuck me _ , Chanyeol thought. He could practically feel Baekhyun’s extreme amusement at his flagrant failure. He wasn’t going to hear the end of how bad he was at all the shooting thing.

“Well.” When the other boy finally spoke, he was chuckling. “You could have incapacitated three enemies with that shot… if only they had been standing close to the wall and not, you know, at the other side of the room where the target actually is. But I guess that, if you don’t take that little problem into consideration, you actually didn’t do it that bad.”

This time, Chanyeol was  _ really _ about to drop his blaster on his foot. He turned. “What?”

“To be honest, that last shot was shit, but you weren’t exactly paying full attention to what you were doing. And I saw you try before and you were decent. Surprisingly so.” Leaving his place at the wall, Baekhyun walked towards him. He was wearing a grey, oversized hoodie that covered his whole arms down to his hands, and Chanyeol found himself staring at the way his fingertips poked from under the fabric as he typed on the touchscreen. “Was that your first time with a gun?”

“What? I— Um.” Chanyeol realized, a couple of seconds too late, that he was supposed to say something. “I use blasters in M.O.N.S.T.E.R.” Baekhyun raised a black eyebrow. “It’s a very immersive game.”

“Okay, Dome champion, I’ll take that as a yes,” said Baekhyun. He typed a command on the screen and the target at the back of the shooting space moved forward, until it was hanging closer to where they stood, the vital points still flashing red on its head and chest. “Try it like this. Do your worst.”

Chanyeol blinked at him. “Are you trying to help me?” he asked, and Baekhyun grinned.

“You seemed so lost, so I just provide. You never believe me when I tell you how nice I am.”

_ Scorpions are really nice, too in some parallel universe, _ Chanyeol internally groaned, but did as he was told. It was true that he needed the help if he wanted to learn and Baekhyun looked as friendly as a predator ever would, with his big grey sweater and disheveled hair and pretty smile. Maybe he grew quieter late at night, the hours of sleeplessness softening his edges just enough to make him bearable.

So he raised his gun and tried to focus, trying to envision himself in the M.O.N.S.T.E.R fields, to aim and pull the trigger as he would in the middle of a game. It was easier now, and his target was close, so it should be okay. And thus he let go. He shot once, and twice, and let out a yet another frustrated groan when the blasts that he had aimed towards the dummy’s chest hit it in the stomach instead.

“This is terrible,” he mumbled.

“And yet you’re managing to hit,” whispered Baekhyun, in a tone Chanyeol couldn’t quite identify. “Perfectionist, aren’t we?”

“I needed to have at least a couple of redeeming qualities. That’s one of them.”

“And what’s the other?” 

“Perseverance.”

“Keep trying, then.” Baekhyun cocked his head to the side, observing him as he aimed for the target again. He let out a huff when Chanyeol managed to land a not-so-disgraceful shot again, that time on the dummy’s shoulder. “It’s funny. Your posture is not really that bad and you know how to aim. You’re making me all impressed, for the videogame nerd you are.”

By now, Chanyeol had experience enough in life to know that bad things happened whenever Baekhyun told him he was impressed. “So you’re gonna take me and my wonderful shooting skills along to fight next time you go play the terrorist?” he found himself replying.

“Good or bad with a gun, you will be coming. You’re my Breaker,” stated Baekhyun. He moved, then, away from the screen and so close to where Chanyeol was that he was practically pressed against his side before the boy could even process it. There were fingers on his hand where he was gripping the blaster, pressing in the spaces between his, so softly, so  _ insistently _ . “But let me teach you a couple of things, will you? Lesson one, don’t hold your gun like it’s going to come flying out of your hand. Your knuckles are white. You don’t need strenght: be gentle and it’ll obey you.”

It was easier said than done. “It’s heavy,” protested Chanyeol. “Heavier than I thought it would. And weird. It’s like my brain recognizes this thing from the game, but when I try to shoot it it’s— different.”

“Raise your arm,” instructed Baekhyun, sliding his fingers to his wrist when Chanyeol did so. He smelled of soap up close, the tips of his hair still wet, and the boy felt kind of lightheaded about the revelation. “There is a recoil in these guns. Not as much as if you were dealing with bullets, but it exists. It is like momentum, like an impulse you must control if you want precision. So, Lesson two, know that it exist and minimize it, or use it to your advantage.” His fingers closed in an iron grip around Chanyeol’s wrist, holding it in place when he aimed. His breath was warm against his neck when he whispered. “Shoot.”

The order was like a spark on tinder, and Chanyeol was pulling the trigger before he could think of anything else. Baekhyun’s fingers were hot on his skin, and his smile was triumphant when he saw the red blast of energy flash across the room and hit the dummy in the chest, barely centimeters away from the target. It wasn’t perfect, but it was better than good. “See? Such a good boy, you are. You’re decent, Zero, better than I used to be. Just don’t let it go into your head and train so you can be of use when I take you with me.”

“Noted,” Chanyeol replied. It had been easy to strike, with Baekhyun’s hand holding his wrist in place, but the boy wasn’t letting go. He was still observing him, lips parted, the piercings in his ears momentarily gone, but the one in his mouth as present as ever, silver chain and all. “Do you ever take that thing off?” he dumbly asked.

“Don’t you like it?” Baekhyun rose his head to look up at him, bit his lip almost distractedly, like he had just remembered that there was metal piercing his skin. Chanyeol would have stepped back, or forward, hadn’t he been frozen in place. “Thought you maybe did. But let me tell you something, Zero. Lesson three: you might think otherwise, but I don’t  _ play the terrorist _ . Simply because I don’t play at all, ever. Maybe I can have fun when it comes to other things, but we will be at war when we step out of this place. You should try your best at remembering it.”

“I already know that,” Chanyeol whispered. “You told me.”

“Ah, by all means, keep it in mind. I’m really hard to please and you don’t want to get on my bad side, now do you?”

Chanyeol swallowed. “I’ve never said--”

“Don’t be so nervous.” Baekhyun reached up to pull a strand of faded red hair out from his eyes. He must have seen something in the other boy’s face, because his expression softened into playfulness. “I told you. You’re much, much better than I was when I first came here and look at me know.” He snatched Chanyeol’s gun from his fingers and raised it with controlled grace. There was a fast, single shot, and the blinking light at the head of the target went out with a spark. “Just train every day and remember what I told you.”

“You’re such a showoff.”

“Because of course you’re not, when you have the means to be.” Turning around, Baekhyun offered the blaster back to Chanyeol, patting him in the shoulder in some sort of strange gesture of camaraderie before he started to walk to the door. “I’m going to bed,” he announced. “I want to go to Fourth tomorrow morning to buy stuff, so I have no choice but to get up early. Ugh, so unfair, I am definitely not a morning person.”

“You like to sleep in?” asked Chanyeol. He hadn’t seen that one coming, but then it was hard to imagine a person as Baekhyun actually sleeping and not roaming around at night like a fierce, untiring vampire. 

“It’s not like I get up at noon or anything, but every young man needs his own vices, you know?” He stopped at the door, giving him one last look before heading out. “If you’re wondering, my usual schedule is combat training at the gym room in the mornings, shooting practice in the afternoon, then gym again at night.”

_ What a beast.  _ “Praised be the Dream, how many hours does all that take you? And here I was, thinking I was the one who spent too much time in M.O.N.S.T.E.R for it to be healthy.”

“It doesn’t really matter; I don’t have many other ways to pass my time anyway. I was just telling you for the sake of information. So you can keep politely avoiding me while you use our facilities and all that.”

Chanyeol opened his mouth to reply, stuttering in denial before he realized that the only thing he was achieving was making Baekhyun’s shit-eating grin wider. “It isn’t like that,” he tried, a last chance at saving his dignity.

“Whatever you say, Zero,” replied Baekhyun, blinking a grey eye at him before he finally left the room with a low laugh.

_ Oh, well, fuck. _

It was almost 3:30 am when Chanyeol was left alone in front of his shooting booth with a dry throat, the dead weight of a gun in his hand and a mortified blush creeping up his ears.

\--

Baekhyun might be a giant jerk most of the time, but his advice was useful. It was easier to shoot if Chanyeol forced himself to grab the gun lightly, and aiming turned into a much simpler thing once he took the recoil into account. His mornings at the shooting room were, in a sense, like revisiting a memory - he felt like a highschool kid, learning his way with the M.O.N.S.T.E.R weapons once more, only this time his tools were deadlier, and completely real.

“It makes sense in some twisted way,” Jongdae told him one practice morning. “If you look at it from the M.O.N.S.T.E.R perspective, you’ve been shooting your way in totally immersive virtual fields for years before you came here. I mean, your avatar’s body becomes your own when you’re in the game, so.”

“Yeah, but my avatar doesn’t get tired, or is left all stiff after holding this thing up for hours.”

“Are you stiff because of the blaster or because of the gym?”

“Probably both,” groaned Chanyeol. He had found a semblance of routine those last days: he went shooting in the mornings, went to the gym in the afternoon, then trained at M.O.N.S.T.E.R at night. At first, he had thought that maybe Baekhyun would barge in, claiming with a smile that he had decided to modify his routines for whatever reason, but it never happened. He saw Jongdae, and Minseok sometimes, but never him. Not beyond the usual glimpse in the corridors, or the view of him sitting on the kitchen counter, feet not touching the floor as he wolfed down his daily (and very unhealthy-looking) dose of instant noodles.

“But what I meant is that your body doesn’t remember what you’re doing but your mind just might?” continued Jongdae when he found himself faced with silence. “I don’t know about myself, I was trained in weapons  _ and  _ M.O.N.S.T.E.R at the same time, but you’ve been playing with that blaster for a week and a half and you already hit bull’s eye regularly.”

“As long as it doesn’t move…” whispered Chanyeol. He had thought about that too, at first, but, when he had tried one of the advanced training programs for the first time a couple of days ago, the result had been so devastatingly tragic that he had been so,  _ so _ thankful for being alone in the room. He wanted to believe he was getting better. He wanted to believe that he would be able to fight, if the need arose, but he was more than aware of his skills being too deficient. Still.

“Give yourself more time and you’ll be nailing it.”

“I hope.” His body felt too clumsy, his limbs too long and all over the place. “It’s just that when I fire a virtual gun I feel like the king of the world, but then I come back here and grab this thing and feel like a five year old kid with a bulldozer.”

“You couldn’t be possibly expecting reality and your game to be the same thing,” another voice said, just then. Chanyeol turned around in time to see Baekhyun walking through the shooting room doors in the old t-shirt and sweatpants he used for combat practice. He still had half finger gloves on, reinforced at his knuckles and wrists. “Hard things must be learned the hard way.”

“It  _ is _ more similar than you think,” protested Chanyeol. “Jongdae believes so too.”

“Hi, Sigma,” said Jongdae.

Baekhyun waved at him in acknowledgement, but looked at Chanyeol in the eye as he walked close. “So, if according to you, a M.O.N.S.T.E.R game and a real combat are so similar, are you implying that someone who can actually fight in real life would actually kick your ass at your own game? What do I need a Breaker for, then?”

That was obviously a bait, but Chanyeol couldn’t help but to take it. “Like hell you would defeat me. It takes more skill than you think.”

“Oh, but imagine if I did.” Baekhyun placed one hand over his chest, feigning shock. “Our resident champion beaten. Conquered. Crushed. Destroyed. Undone and crying for mercy. I would be most heartbroken.”

“Well, you’re more than welcome to come online whenever you want.”

Baekhyun let his gaze drop, as if considering it, but he finally shook his head with a grin. “I’m always up for a challenge but I have many things to do. Train. Practice. Sleep. Eat. Listen to music. Paint for a while. Think how to overthrow an evil regime. That stuff. I value your contribution to the cause but I’ve never had time for games.”

“Have you ever played M.O.N.S.T.E.R?”

“It might come as a surprise, but not everyone in this city does.”

“And you still think you could be better than  _ me?”  _ whispered Chanyeol, appalled. “Are you serious?”

Baekhyun just smirked.

To their right, Jongdae cleared his throat. Loudly. “Sigma,” he called. “I thought you would be kicking things to oblivion or something. What are you doing here?”

“Ah, true, I have a message to deliver.” He kept looking at Chanyeol, still, hands on his hips. “You’ll need to be free for me tonight. Remember Kyungsoo? He’s coming over, and we will be meeting up with him, along with the boss.”

“Are there news?”

“Guess you’ll have to wait to know. I’ll come to get you later.”

With a last goodbye wave, Baekhyun moved away from him and walked out of the room. He carried himself like a king, every step effortlessly controlled. Chanyeol only realized that Jongdae was staring at him when they were left alone again.

“What?” he asked.

“That is not what I had in mind when I suggested to give Sigma some time to warm up to you.”

“We’re being cordial,” protested Chanyeol. “I think.”

“By shamelessly flirting in my face? Oh, wow.”

Jongdae looked so unimpressed that Chanyeol felt more flustered than he should have. “Come on, we are not flirting. Isn’t he like that to everyone?”

“He sure as hell isn’t like that to  _ me. _ And praised be the Dream for that; I would feel like jumping off the window if he was, _ ”  _ Jongdae raised his voice to speak in a mocking, high-pitched voice. “‘ _ Oh, how I would love to see you undone and crying for mercy _ ’. Please Park, be careful. He’s playing with you, so don’t follow his game unless you know what you’re signing up for.”

“I thought that you told me before that he was just evaluating me?” Chanyeol tried to defend himself, feeling a little breathless.

“Yeah. And by the looks of it, he has studied the case and decided he’ll get into your pants the moment you let him.”

Chanyeol felt the imperious need to resume his shooting practice once more so he wouldn’t have to continue with that conversation. “I doubt that’ll happen.”

“Do what you want, but I wouldn’t allow him to fool around with me if I were you. You are a good guy, and Sigma’s the kind of person who does whatever he wants, when he wants it and with whomever he pleases. He’ll use you if it amuses him just because he feels like it.”

“You’re making it sound as if we weren’t on the same side,” said Chanyeol after a pause. “I thought that my fight was also his fight? I’ve also been wronged by the Obelisk, and I’ve never believed that much in the Dream or Destiny anyway.”

“Ah, but Sigma  _ does _ believe in Fate,” interrupted Jongdae, quietly. “In fact, that is exactly where his main problem is.”

Chanyeol’s training program was paused midway, the vital spots in his target blinking in red. He should keep going, but he didn’t feel like doing so anymore. “I appreciate your concern, I really do, but I don’t think you have any reason to worry - about me, or him, or about us. I’ll be careful.”

Jongdae nodded, his brow furrowed, but his expression otherwise neutral. “Of course you will.”

Chanyeol didn’t think he sounded convinced.

\--

Night came, and Chanyeol was finally summoned to Minseok’s office by the rebel leader himself. Kyungsoo was already there when he walked in, a tiny figure in a tailored black suit who was talking to a very smiley Baekhyun. Chanyeol couldn’t help to think that, serious and grim as he was, he looked more like an undertaker than like a carrier of good news.

“Zero!” Baekhyun said, however, looking as a kid who had earned a lifelong supply of candy. He didn’t get up from where he sat, but he looked at him first, then turned towards Minseok, and Chanyeol was absurdly self-conscious of this fact for the whole two seconds the other boy’s eyes were on him. “We have finally gotten a lead! We are on track!”

Minseok walked towards his desk, sitting at his usual spot, his expression a stern mask. “Yes, you’ve told me as much. But do you care to explain to me what exactly you have found?”

Kyungsoo cleared his throat and talked in his usual monotone voice. “Sigma asked me to spread some questions around my usual networks of contacts under his name, for information about a confidential Obelisk project classified under the codename Morpheus. I believe you are familiar with this?”

“I am.”

“Did someone reply to you?” asked Chanyeol from where he was standing, close to the exit door.

“We got a reply! An anonymous one.” Baekhyun was the one to answer, practically bouncing on his chair. He looked more excited than Chanyeol had ever seen him. “We’ve got an informant, a  _ source. _ Someone who knows stuff and is willing to meet for an exchange.”

“An exchange of what?” inquired Minseok.

“What we know for what they know.”

“Do they intend us to trade in person? Where do they want to meet?”

“Ah, you’re gonna love this.” Baekhyun was replying to Minseok but his smile, Chanyeol was sure, was meant for him. “On Friday. At a club. Black Light.”

“Do you mean the one at Fifth Ward?” he asked.  _ It can’t be. _

Minseok shook his head. “It sounds like a trap.”

“I can’t guarantee that it isn’t,” conceded Kyungsoo. “Anonymity is key in certain corners of the Network. My own address can’t be tracked, but the same can be said for the one our informer was using. The message could come from a friend, but it could have been sent by a foe all the same. You’re a wanted man, Sigma. Your name carries a certain… weight, for both the good and the bad.”

Letting a sigh, Baekhyun nodded. “I’m so notorious, huh? Happens to the best men only,” he said, fingers drumming on the armrest of his chair. “I am really glad to know I am already a pain in the Obelisk’s ass, but I need to step up my game if I intend to keep being so. Nothing ventured, nothing gained: I’m going.”

“Sigma,” warned Minseok, but the boy shrugged.

“What? Are gonna tell me not to do it? It’s risky, but someone has to go, and you want to know too.” He got up, then, standing in the middle of his boss’ office, with his arms crossed over his chest and his eyes traveling up to meet with Chanyeol’s. “But then, maybe I shouldn’t be going alone, for my safety. So who, do you think, would be interested enough to come with me? Any volunteers?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! :D 
> 
> All the interesting stuff is about to start to happen huhu, so please wait for it!
> 
> As usual, I would very much love to hear your opinions and thoughts on the story, so please comment if you have time :DD
> 
> See you all again in February!


	7. Login 06

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welps, here you have the chapter for February. I hope you were anticipating the Black Light episode, because here it is. Enjoy and let me know your opinion in the comments :D

**Login 06**

 

Friday came faster than Chanyeol expected - and hoped - it to arrive. He had continued with his training, yes, hardly and constantly enough for Jongdae to congratulate him. He had gone back to the gym, with much more dedication than those times when he used to actually pay a monthly fee for a membership card. He had created a new routine - M.O.N.S.T.E.R, training, shooting - and had followed it until the end, but still he felt terrifyingly unprepared when the sun set at the other side of the Dome and Jongdae came to his room with a bag of neatly folded clothes.

“From Sigma,” he said, “for the mission later.”

Chanyeol didn’t know why he had expected for Baekhyun to behave, but his eyes still opened wide when he saw what was inside - stupidly tight, washed jeans and a black and blue shirt. They looked expensive, classy, the type of thing that Sehun would wear. “Are we going to meet a contact or is he trying to sell me into prostitution? Because if that’s the case, tell him I’m not okay with it.”

Jongdae shrugged. “You know him.”

“Yeah, he would tell me that he only wants the mission to succeed. Then laugh at my face for looking ridiculous.”

“I see you’re starting to know him well.”

“Better than I would like to, honestly.”

Once left alone, Chanyeol had sat on his bed, unfolded clothes on his lap, wondering what to do with them (probably more seriously than he should have). In the end, he choose to wear the clothes, then tried to style his hair like Sehun had unsuccessfully tried to teach him once of the times they had gone clubbing, and after that he had thrown his biggest sweater over it all, because he had believed he could pull the look for a second but obviously being stylish wasn’t something he was too good at. 

He needed a place to hide his gun, after all, and a hoodie was a good a place as any. There was no way in hell he was going unarmed, no matter how much Baekhyun wanted him to be in character. Him or well,  _ them _ , because when Chanyeol met him at the main door of the house, the other boy was in full club gear.

Chanyeol felt the pull of the memory, like a wave of mixed heat and nostalgia, because Baekhyun looked almost the same as he did when they had met for the first time. Ripped jeans, combat boots, lip chain glistening and hair falling over eyes rimmed in black. He was wearing a dark blue lacquer jacket instead of red leather, but he still looked like the alternative kid, the rockstar, the kind of person who could step on your face, then your heart, and leave the place smiling after.

“You’re here,” he said, eyes travelling up, then down. He raised his eyebrows, clearly amused. “Not leaving your good, old sweater behind, huh?”

“This one’s new. Jongdae brought me a whole wardrobe some weeks ago, and this one it’s clean, and brand. I’ve worn worse outfits to Black Light, you know, and they still let me in no question.”

“Yeah, and I guess people  _ were _ looking at you, for all the wrong reasons.”

“I-- Need a place to keep my gun. I’m taking it.”

“Of course you are; this whole thing could be dangerous. Maybe that was my mistake when choosing clothes for you, excuse me: lack of decently-sized pockets. I kind of forgot that you’re not as well equipped by default as I am.”

Chanyeol blinked in flustered confussion, then remembered. The electroshocking device that he carried around in that lip-piercing-and-chain of his. The synthetic eyes. “Is that enough? What functions do your eyes have, anyway, to help you in a fight?”

Baekhyun laughed, heartily, and opened the exit door, gesturing for him to go out. A part of Chanyeol had hoped that Minseok would be there to bid them goodbye, but of course that mission was only for the both of them. He stepped out.

“Let me see… They come with X-Ray vision,” replied Baekhyun after a moment of thought, as he followed and closed the door behind him. “It allows me to look through things.”

“What things?” Chanyeol asked. Baekhyun locked eyes with him, only to gaze down, and down, and lower. He had the nerve to bite his lip, then smirk, a purplish gleam beneath the unnatural grey of his irises. “Wait, no fucking way! Clothes? You’ve got to be kidding me.”

Baekhyun laughed out loud. “Obviously, I am. X-Ray for implants exists, but that’s not what it’s for and, anyway, I don’t have it installed - just an integrated Comm and night vision. This kind of bionic tech is fucking expensive; there are cheaper and better ways to get someone undressed, just so you know.”

He shook his head and started walking, leaving their quieter street for a broader avenue. Chanyeol had no other choice but to follow, eyes focused on the buildings, and the neons, and the opaque Dome overhead. He cleared his throat when they arrived at the closest taxi stop. “So, you have a Comm in your eye?”

“Sort of. It doesn’t work by itself; I’ve got in synchronized to the one I’m wearing on my wrist. As long as they are in range I can transfer functions from one to another. Search for stuff, verify data, watch and record video, that kind of things. It’s hard-wired into my brain, so it’s useful when I can’t issue voice commands or have my hands busy. Doesn’t work with complex orders, though, so it’s practical, but a bit limited sometimes. Satisfied with the explanation now?”

“I guess.”

“Then let’s go, okay?”

Baekhyun slid the secondary ID hand to pay for their taxi ride all the way to Fourth Ward. He didn’t try to talk, busy checking something in the portable Comm on his wrist, and Chanyeol didn’t try to start a new conversation. The more the night advanced, the more he felt like he was reliving an old memory, an altered déjà-vu of Sehun and him traveling to the same club, at the same Dome district, in a night just like that one. Weeks ago, he had gone there to recruit a new member for his M.O.N.S.T.E.R team and had met Baekhyun instead. Now, he had him sitting by his side, wild and dangerous and as seemingly unattainable as he has been back then.

“Ready?” the boy whispered to him when they got down of the car at the crossroads in Fourth, with its big neon signs and its crowd of fancy dressed people. Baekhyun blended just right in, despite the abnormal amount of steel and chains on his face and ears, another neatly dressed person in a multitude determined to enjoy a night out. “Let’s party.”

There was already a long queue when they arrived at the main gates of Black Light, but Baekhyun ignored the line and headed to the back, going around the building instead. For a moment, Chanyeol thought that he was going to head to the glass doors of the VIP entrance, and frowned when the other boy skipped those too, heading towards the small alley between the club and the building at its right instead. The music that blasted inside was audible there, a muted, electronic sound that lost part of its glamour outside the dancefloors and the blue-lighted elegance of Black Light. The inside of the bar had always been fancy, but its back door was dirty, mundane. There were two trash containers there, surrounded with black bags and boxes, full to the brim with empty bottles. A green, metallic gate, lied beyond, partially open.

“A beloved friend of mine should be in duty tonight,” Baekhyun announced, heading towards the door like he owned the place. He turned around to face Chanyeol, smiling at him as if he had taken him to the most beautiful place in town. “Wait for a second, will you? I will come back in a while.”

With that, he was gone, and Chanyeol was left alone among the trash and the music, the gun he had brought with him heavy in the pocket of his hoodie. It wasn’t a big thing, certainly not as much as the blasters he now could - half-decently - fire, but it helped him to feel safe, like its pretty real, material weight anched him down to the ground, making the world around him more surreal, but also forcing it to spin slower, if only a bit. He could hold his weapon and not feel defenseless, knowing he had a chance to fight.  _ First rule of the battle, never get into one thinking you have no option of victory. Grab onto something that’ll make you believe you’ll win, even if you’re deceiving yourself. Perhaps someone with the mindset of a champion can also lose, but sure as fuck losers never get the victory. _

There was noise and a muffler laughter at the other side of the green door, and Chanyeol held his gun tight, both hands on his pockets and hood over his face. To his relief, the figure that appeared at the threshold was Baekhyun’s, towered by an imposing, dark haired man in black leather.

“Is that your friend?” he asked, voice a low growl, and Baekhyun smiled at him.

“Yes, he is. Zero, say hi and let me introduce you to Bonecrusher. He works as security personnel here.”

Chanyeol wondered if that  _ Bonecrusher _ thing was one of Baekhyun’s nicknames or if that guy really liked to be called like that. “Pleased to meet you,” he said.

To his - he thought - relief, the other man simply ignored him. “It’s one thing to let you skip the 100 credits of admission fee, Sigma, but I can’t keep letting all of your friends in for free.”

“Oh, come on, it was only Jongdae the other time. I’ll let you treat me, okay? You know I’m always busy, I deserve the fun once in a while.”

Bonecrusher grunted something, but he finally moved, gesturing for Chanyeol to walk in after him. The door led to a messy storeroom, full of boxes and crates, and still much less fancy than the luxurious interior. No black and blue lights there, Chanyeol noticed, just plain white-yellow light bulbs, white walls and a door leading them to a dirty, dim corridor.  _ Dressing rooms, _ was messily scribbled on the wall with something that suspiciously looked like black marker, along with an arrow pointing to their right.  _ Main dance floor. VIP,  _ were written below, and signaled to be at their left.

“Don’t cause trouble,” Bonecrusher warned, hand enormous on Baekhyun’s shoulder.

“Of course I won’t,” he replied, smiling. “I am such a good boy, the best one there is. You know me.”

“Yeah, I do, that’s why. I’ll go find you later.”

“Will wait for you.”

With one last grin, Baekhyun walked himself towards the right corridor, the beat of the music growing in volume around him, loud and continuous, enveloping him and forcing its way into Chanyeol’s ears. He followed, the echo of his combat boots muffled by the sound, his voice barely audible when he finally reached the door where Baekhyun was waiting.

“Where do you know that guy from?” he asked, and the other boy’s smile grew into a full-fledged smirk.

“From... stuff. He’s not as scary as he looks if you know how to treat him.”

“But— Why do club bouncers let you in?”

“Don’t look so shocked. What are you thinking about, Zero boy? Remember what we talked about, with the Boss and Kyungsoo-Doc? The name Sigma carries certain weight among some people, so I’ve got contacts. And I used them to save your ass. Guess who skipped the metal detectors by going through the back door.”

“There were metal detectors?” Chanyeol would have slapped himself, had Baekhyun not been looking.

“I thought you’d been to classy clubs before?”

“Never like  _ this? _ I paid my credits and never had weapons on me, thanks.”

“Ah well, there’s a first time for everything,” Baekhyun replied, eyes on him. “Now listen. We won’t be meeting our contact in the VIP section, but in the main floor instead, second level. We’ll need to recognize him; he told me he would be wearing neon orange - easily visible, too easy, so keep yourself alert, understood? We’re not in an official mission, so we don’t have an open communication line with headquarters right now, so you and me, we’re on our own. We can’t completely risk it, even if the boss already knows him here to do things my way, so take this.”

The boy took something small and black out of the pocket of his jacket, forcing Chanyeol to squint.

“What’s that?”

“Bend down for me, will you?”

After a moment of hesitation, Chanyeol did, only to find Baekhyun’s fingers on his face. He wasn’t wearing gloves right then, and for hands so nimble, his fingertips were surprisingly rough when they touched his skin, adjusting the device into his ear, turning it on. Chanyeol swallowed, closing his eyes, even though Baekhyun removed his fingers as soon as he was over, focused in adjusting a small, circular microphone to the collar of his shirt, under his hoodie.

“Communication device?” Chanyeol whispered, doubting that the other boy would hear, but he still got his answer.

“Closed network. Between you and I. But tech is expensive, remember? Don’t lose it.”

“I wouldn’t.”

“So are we ready, then?”

“As much as I can ever be,” replied Chanyeol, hands finding the gun inside his pocket again. Baekhyun tilted his head and grabbed him by the wrist, fast and unexpected and still grinning. 

“Relax. Think of this as a M.O.N.S.T.E.R level.”

“Every single thing in a M.O.N.S.T.E.R level is out to kill the player.”

“Exactly. And you already know that, don’t you? Every time you put that helmet in your head and connect to the main server. That you have to be aware if you don’t want to be disqualified.” Baekhyun’s voice came amplified by the earphone device, crystal clear in his ear, piercing as broken glass. “So now, let’s go. We have a mission to accomplish.”

He opened the door, finally, and walked across with his head high, his posture calculatedly relaxed as he moved forward. They were in a corridor, Chanyeol realized when he followed, the one leading to the bathrooms at the first floor. He hadn’t been in that side of the club so much - he always came there with Sehun and his friend was always in for the VIP sections and the reserved booths - but he knew enough to move around without getting lost among the different spaces and floors. The whole Black Light space had the same concept: cobalt blue and light grey illumination, ink-black walls and loud, electronic beats that got into your head like a mantra, but the main section had the biggest rooms, the most crowded dancefloors, a perpetual mass of bodies moving together to the rhythm under the big stained glass that decorated the ceiling. Chanyeol practically crashed against Baekhyun while looking at it, letting out and exclamation that faded into the reigning noise when he felt the other boy’s back against his chest and his black, carefully styled hair under his nose.

“Don’t go all astray, will you?” Baekhyun whispered, and Chanyeol felt the impulse to tear the hearing device off his ear because of how close his voice sounded and how perfectly audible it was, over the music and the noise and the frantic beats of his heart. “Remember, you came clubbing with me. You don’t ditch your date.”

“I thought we were here on a mission,” the boy protested, as Baekhyun grabbed him by the wrist and pulled him into the mass of moving bodies, opening a way for them both between beat and beat, and across the room. “Isn’t this important?”

“Ah, yeah, but we could take a break, huh? The night’s young and we’re early; the informant is probably not here yet, so we could have fun. Why don’t you dance with me? I could teach you how if you don’t know. You don’t look like you know how to do it as well as I do.”

To his dismay, Baekhyun had stopped moving, turning around while he still kept him in place. Like that, he was almost in his arms. The DJ screamed and the public cheered while the beat dropped, and suddenly they were the only two unmoving figures in a raving crowd, Baekhyun’s grey eyes on him, pupils dilated.

_ Night vision, _ Chanyeol vaguely thought, trying to keep his brain busy. And still, despite everything, a part of his mind could see it, envision it. He could take Baekhyun to dance, surrender and press his body against him, sink one hand in his hair and move to the beat, if only to see him sweat, to dishevel him, to ask in his ear if he was fucking satisfied.  _ He wants you, _ Jongdae had said,  _ and he’ll use you.  _ But there and now he didn’t know how much he cared about being used, and ruined, as long as he could make Baekhyun shut his pretty mouth up.

It was the club. It was the heat. It was that bastard of a boy himself, knowing what he was doing and what he wanted, and pressing buttons, pulling strings to get it.

He found it hard as hell to speak. “I know you, you wouldn’t risk it. You count on me saying no.”

“Ah, do I?” Baekhyun replied with a husky laugh. He shook his head, and then they were on the move once more. He knew where to step and how to advance among the dancing bodies in a way that made the whole ordeal look like an easy task, and was guiding them both towards the set of stairs at the other side of the dance floor, the ones that led to the floor above. His fingers were still around Chanyeol’s wrist. “Well, it’s true that we have work to do, after all, but you could still go have fun with me sometimes.”

“No way,” groaned Chanyeol, letting himself be pulled around. “I not crazy enough to go out with someone who dislikes me yet”

“I did not mention ‘going out,’ boy.” Baekhyun laughed again, repeating the words slowly. “And besides, I don’t dislike you.”

“Oh, really, now you don’t?”

“I’m not lying. I wouldn’t even think of doing the things I want to do to you to someone I hate.”

Chanyeol pulled himself free. They had reached the stairs, and the music was louder than ever. They were surrounded by people, but there wasn’t no one else to hear. “What’s your fucking problem?” he exclaimed. He was sure he was blushing like a schoolgirl, and he was certain as well that it was precisely what Baekhyun had wanted of him.

“Didn’t you want me to be honest? I’m making amends. Come on, let’s go up. Second floor, remember?”

The upper level was open, half of it a dancefloor, the part closer to the stairs shaped like a balcony over the frenzy below. It was hotter there, the stained glass ceiling much closer and the air dense and heavy, and Chanyeol had to fight the urge to remove his hoodie while he followed Baekhyun to a small, low table that had been just been left unoccupied by a group of girls.

“Lucky us,” the other boy chirped, practically throwing himself onto one of the sofas around it.

“What do we do now?” asked Chanyeol, taking his place at the other side.

“I order drinks and we wait. What do you want, by the way?”

“Are we drinking on a mission?”

“Are we sitting here without buying a single thing from the bar until the person we are looking for arrives? I’m sure things don’t work like this in videogame world, but there’s a thing in real life called dissimulation. You need a certain amount of slyness in life to succeed. You don’t even need to drink, just… pay for it and pretend you do.”

No matter what Baekhyun said, Chanyeol didn’t feel too confident about bringing alcohol to the table when they had a contact to meet and he wasn’t exactly calm, but he supposed that ordering a glass of water and an aspirin was out of question. “Get me a beer,” he conceded, and Baekhyun grinned.

“Gotcha.”

Chanyeol sighed when he was left alone, letting his head drop on the back of the sofa and closing his eyes for a moment. What time it was now? With his Comm glasses gone, everything he had for time measuring was his old analogic clock, and it wasn’t like he could check it in the general blackness of that place. It was late enough for the club to be at its peak of capacity, that was for sure, people everywhere he looked and no space on the dancefloors.

After a couple of minutes of well-deserved peace, he turned to look towards the bar, trying to locate Baekhyun’s familiar figure. He wasn’t counting on finding him soon but he did anyway: a young man in cobalt and black walking towards their table, one cup in each hand. To Chanyeol’s surprise, however, he wasn’t alone - there was another person with him, big, brutish and familiar.

Baekhyun could had found their contact while he was ordering drinks. Instead, he had found that Bonecrusher guy, and was laughing at something he had said with a face that only could mean trouble. The jerk had cut their headphone connection and some point but grazed his ear with his fingers and soon as he arrived at the table.

“Missed me?” he asked, raising his voice as if Chanyeol couldn’t perfectly hear him. Stealth, Baekhyun had said, but the boy was almost sure he did it to be annoying. “Look at this, I bumped into a friend. Remember Bonecrusher?”

“How to forget him? You introduced him to me like thirty minutes ago.”

“Do thank him, then. He paid for your drink too, besides treating me. He insisted.”

“I can fathom why he would do something so nice for a stranger.” Chanyeol grabbed the glass the other boy was giving him and silently gestured towards Bonecrusher, who was standing behind Baekhyun like some kind of stupid, meaty wall. The other  man didn’t gesture back, or even move. At all.

“Can’t you guess? I had to promise him five minutes of my time in exchange. I guess I’ll get it over with soon.”

Chanyeol blinked. “What? Are you leaving with him? Now?”

“Bet I am. I have to entertain myself considering you don’t even want to dance. Besides, I’m grateful to him: not a big fan of alcohol but I love free stuff.” Baekhyun took a sip of the cup he was holding, barely wetting his lips in the black liquid inside. “I’ll be right back, just keep your eyes open in case you see a neon orange jacket. There’s a button at the center of your earpiece; press it to turn it on and talk to me. Okay?”

“Hey!”

After blinking an eye to him, Baekhyun did exactly what he had instructed Chanyeol to do, pressing the button at the center of his own earpiece to silence any further reply before waving goodbye at him and going away - and the boy didn’t exactly appreciate being left alone in a bar moments before an appointment, but he already knew that Baekhyun had the annoying tendency to do whatever the fuck he pleased, and there was no human way for Chanyeol to make him listen to what he had to say if he didn’t feel like it.

Well, he could always sit there, he guessed, and tell the contact, if they came, that Sigma wasn’t there to talk because he had left with a guy called  _ Bonecrusher  _ to do the Dreamers knew what _.  _ Even Sehun and that stupid OhSniper M.O.N.S.T.E.R username of his was less dumb than  _ that nickname. _

_ Three cheers for teamwork. Yay. _

At least he had a beer, so he could as well drink it. It wasn’t like he could drown himself in alcohol, considering that at least one of them had to work that night, but he had tolerance enough to finish that and still remain focused, so he took a sip and then another, eyes searching for neon orange among the blue-and-grey darkness. A minute passed, then five, fifteen and half an hour, and everything he could see was normal people dancing, wasted teenagers making out and a very annoyed group of young girls obviously glaring at him at the table he was occupying.

“Excuse me, are you going to stay much longer at this place?” one of the girls finally asked, voice loud in his ear when she bent to speak to him, eyes unfocused. She was rude, and drunk, and probably Baekhyun would have found the works to make her and her friends go away while sighing for him, but Chanyeol felt tired of that bar and done with waiting.

“Yeah, take the table, all yours.”

She and her friends were seating on the sofas without barely leaving him time to stand, and he felt absurdly relieved when he left. That floor was still too hot, the shirt that Baekhyun had bought him sticking to his skin under his hoodie, so he walked away from the bar zone and the dancefloor and moved towards the balcony overlooking the main room below. The DJ was playing another one of many electronic songs, the beat fast and heavy, and the crowd jumped to it, all at one, heads raised and hands up in a mesmerizing, human wave.

“Drop it,” whispered Chanyeol, fingers curling around the metal railing before him as the synths got louder. He didn’t like clubbing that much, it had been a while since he’d last danced. But perhaps he could have done it, follow his instincts, have fun.  _ When was the last time you did what you wanted?  _ If one thought of it, letting go among a heated, raving crowd was almost like having sex - you didn’t need to think, you didn’t need to restrain yourself, just feel and lose control, and regret any consequence later. He could do that, he should do that, now that he was alone and Baekhyun— “Ah, what?”

He had  _ seen _ something, out of the corner of his eye: a pearl grey beam on light, reflecting on orange, on the stairs at his far right. There was a person there, he realized, still in the middle of a step, with a bright neon jacket but his back to him, eyes focused in something else instead. Finally a figure, their contact, but frozen mid-way and looking at… what?

Chanyeol squinted. Then he saw it, and his knuckles turned white on the railing. “Shit.” He could distinguish the entrance door from where he was, and the uniformed men walking right in. Half a dozen of them, dressed in the pristine white of the Obelisk troops. They stood out like light in the darkness, the UV beams reflecting on their clothes. The saviors of the Dome, the worst of omens; the trap they had been expecting. And there he was: alone.

_ Relax. Think of this as a M.O.N.S.T.E.R level,  _ Baekhyun had told him. But Baekhyun hadn’t known that Chanyeol couldn’t relax, that he never did in the middle of a game because tension and awareness landed you victory. He had been tired, but now he felt fully awake, adrenaline pulsing through his veins and heart racing. The other boy had been right in one single thing: he recognized the sensation, that trepidation, and he knew how to work with that. So he pressed his earphone button and spoke, voice firm, fear hidden, like he did to his Exodus teammates when things went wrong. “Baekhyun. Where are you?”

The figure in the orange neon jacket started moving downstairs, and Chanyeol followed the railing to his right, eyes focused on him. He couldn’t stay in the upper level anyway - there was no way out there, besides that single set of stairs.

“Zero.” Baekhyun’s voice came to his earpiece then, loud and clear. There was no trace of amusement, only hard steel. Which meant he already knew.

“Obelisk forces are coming in. Around six men.”

“Commander Wu’s men. They must be. I haven’t seen Wu, but Doctor Lu from Dream Department is here, and they always work together. Do you remember them, right? Lu and his minions have come for us.”

“Did you expect them to come for a dance?” Chanyeol snorted, taking a last look before starting to head down the stairs, as close to the wall as he could. “Situation report, by the way: five men in white at the entrance door, another one close to the bar, first floor. I found our contact: he looked male, saw his jacket but could not make out his face. He was heading up when these people arrived but turned around and is now making his way through the dancefloor.”

“You’re decent at this,” Baekhyun replied. “Good job informing.”

“I have to be, when I am the only taking his work seriously here.”

“Hey. Well noted on my side, but focus. Now tell me where he’s heading to.”

“Right side, I think, but I just lost him.”

“Did you get down from the second floor? You won’t have a way out if they decide to go up; come to the main dancefloor area.”

“Already did. What now?”

“Technically? We should leave. That’s what the boss’ security protocol says.”

“And let that guy go away?” Chanyeol saw a flash of orange among the crowd. He couldn’t be sure, he  _ probably _ had imagined it, but he rushed anyway, circling the dancefloor, avoiding the people coming and going from the bar.  _ Look for our contact, avoid any traces of white. _

“Ah, so we think alike. You’ll be a great partner in crime.” The boy could almost hear Baekhyun’s smirk at the other side of the line. “Gonna check the secondary door. Go for the main. There’s only one man there, don’t let him see you.”

The music grew louder, people danced wilder. Chanyeol saw one man in white and mingled into the crowd that jumped to the rhythm, hood hiding his features, right hand in his pocket. The main doors weren’t far but still stood beyond his reach, made of dark glass and not yet closed, guarded by a single man in white. He stumbled out of the dancefloor area just in time to see the man in the neon orange jacket stopping to toss his garment away and letting it drop to the floor before walking towards the exit. The guard didn’t see the blow coming, and wasn’t able to stop the stranger before he slipped away. Outside and away and just  _ too fast _ .

“Hey!” Chanyeol exclaimed, but had to stop in his tracks when he felt a hand grabbing his arm violently. The first thing he saw when he turned around were black eyes, then short hair and a white uniform.  _ Fuck. _

“You!” the man roared in his ear, but he barely had time for anything else. Chanyeol was still looking at him in the eyes when they widened in shock, words twisting into a pained scream in his throat before his face blanked and he collapsed. The boy saw sparks, electricity, and then recognized Baekhyun’s familiar figure behind the fallen man, fingers putting his electroshocking device back at its place under his lip.

“Run!” he screamed at him. “Out!”

And Chanyeol ran.

There were three men at the main entrance now - two in white, another one in black - he would not make it, so he turned around and sank directly into the crowd, finding the gaps between the dancers, advancing as fast as he could. He tried to recall where the first floor bathrooms were and went for them, sighing in relief when he saw the neon sign announcing the entrance to the corridor Baekhyun and him had come in through.

_ I made it,  _ he thought, pulse drumming in his ears, music resounding in his bones. But the corridor was too empty and there was no one queuing for the baths, just a man in a white uniform with a blaster gun in his belt.

“What—“ the soldier started, hand going to his weapon. “You! Stop where you are!”

_ Think of this as a M.O.N.S.T.E.R level,  _ Baekhyun’s words had been, and real life wasn’t a game, and Chanyeol could almost taste panic in the back of his throat, but somewhere inside he still had the instinct for battle, and it kicked in, taking over. He raised his own gun, saw the guard’s eyes widen in surprise, and shot, straight to the chest.

The blast of energy lightened the corridor up like a burst of white flare. The man tried to cover himself. He failed. He fell.

Chanyeol would have felt terribly sorry, hadn’t he been already jumping over the unconscious body to get into the service corridor to his right, lungs burning.

His eyes stung, blinded by the yellow lights beyond the door, but he kept running. He remembered the way - the scribbled words in the walls, the narrow corridor, the messy storeroom - and everything turned into a blur as he finally stepped out in the alley.

“I’m out! Baekhyun!” he called, pressing the button in his earpiece as he heard the crash of broken glass somewhere beyond.

“Head left from the alley, left!” the other boy exclaimed back. 

Chanyeol acted, avoiding to think and riding the wave. He had been in Fourth Ward enough times to be able to navigate the alleys and move around without hitting a dead end, so he went forward, only slowing down to look over his shoulder when he heard heavy steps over the ragged sound of his own breath.

There were no soldiers, only Baekhyun, neon orange jacket tied around his waist, getting closer and closer and closer. “Go to your right now!” he called to Chanyeol, grabbing him by the arm when he reached him, and pulling him along to the closest street. His whole body was burning, a white mess of strained pain, exhaustion and adrenaline, but the boy still continued on, concentrated in landing one step after another, faster, faster,  _ faster. _

When Baekhyun finally stopped, he almost collapsed.

“That… That was one hell of an escape,” he heard him whisper.

Chanyeol would probably had thrown up, if his stomach hadn’t been already empty. “What it was,” he gasped, “was fucking… messy. The contact went away; I shot a… guy.”

“Your gun’s not… heavy enough to kill him. You’re still an innocent soul, no murders on your record.” Baekhyun leaned against the wall, hand over his face, breath still ragged. He waited until it has evened to speak, eyes gleaming with amusement in the dimness. There was barely no illumination in that alley, Chanyeol noticed, no streetlights or neon signs, but he could still make out Baekhyun’s features as he looked at him. “But honestly? I’m impressed you had what it takes to actually shoot.”

Of course, Baekhyun had almost recovered while Chanyeol was still a panting mess. It was typical. Frustrating. “Impressed my ass. We lost the guy.”

“I’ve got his jacket.”

“And what do you want his fucking jacket for? The contact we needed to talk to ran away in our faces because you were not there to meet him.”

“Hardly my fault: we got company while he was still arriving. And speaking about that, lower your voice, will you, baby boy? We lost the bad guys, yeah, but we are still probably getting chased.”

“Very well, I’m whispering, are you satisfied?” Chanyeol had shot a man and ran away from authority across half of Fourth Ward. He felt like he was going to be sick, and Baekhyun had the nerve to look as smug as if nothing had happened, after ditching him no less _. _ “Where in the fucking Dream were you?”

“Taking care of some business, told you. It needed to be done.”

“How is leaving to dance with a guy  _ business? _ ”

Baekhyun raised his eyebrows at him with a snort. “What? Are you gonna be jealous now? Of someone called Bonecrusher?”

“It’s— It’s not that!” protested Chanyeol. He didn’t give a fuck about Bonecrusher, or about dancing at a bar, but he did about Baekhyun leaving him alone. He did about the other boy looking so composed and so perfect and laughing at him while he was a sweaty, panting, aching mess. He wanted Baekhyun to have it hard, too, to react like a normal human being, with blood in his veins instead of steel and ice. “You son of a—”

Baekhyun let him do it, completely relaxed under his hands when Chanyeol slammed him against the wall behind them. He was the smaller one, he should have been the weakest, he should have fought to get free but the only thing he did was to grab Chanyeol by the front of his sweater to pull him closer, lips curved upwards and eyes gleaming. “I’ll tell you a secret,” he whispered. “I wasn’t dancing with him.” Then he pulled, harder, and kissed him.

Chanyeol hadn’t expected that, but he didn’t  _ care. _ Baekhyun was kissing to destroy, biting his lips open, hands already under his clothes, but two could play that game and he had always been a sore loser. Victory meant his hands in Baekhyun’s hair, disheveling it. Victory meant skin against hot skin, Baekhyun’s nails digging to brand at the waistline of his jeans and the cold steel of his piercing warming up and stabbing into Chanyeol’s bottom lip.

_ Ruin him, ruin him, ruin him. _

“Fuck you,” he growled, hand going for the chain connected to Baekhyun’s lip ring and pulling, soft enough not to hurt him, hard enough to force a sound out of that pretty, dirty mouth. And Baekhyun didn’t even fight it and just let it out, something so low and so raw, between a groan and a moan, that Chanyeol felt his whole body respond, vision dissolving in white, blood rushing down.

“You wish,” Baekhyun hissed back, hand grabbing his wrist to make him release the silver chain, full body moving to switch their positions and press Chanyeol against the wall, sliding one knee between his legs. “Come take it.”

Chanyeol just kissed him again. Baekhyun allowed it. Then moved towards his ear slowly, lips spit-stained and swollen and curved in a smile.

“Be ready,” he whispered. 

“ _ Baekhyun. _ ”

“You there!”

Chanyeol was so, so close to Baekhyun that he felt it when the other boy’s whole body language changed. He had been hard and demanding against him, and then he was turning soft with a calculated, well-trained ease, face smooth and eyes wide open. He had been sharp glass, but suddenly he looked like a lost child, caught red handed. “What?” he whispered, a mutter loud enough for Chanyeol to hear, and for the men who were not Chanyeol to listen, too. Two of them, meters away, in Obelisk white uniforms.  _ Shit. _ “What’s… What’s going on?”

“There are fugitives on the run,” one of them said, and Baekhyun slumped against Chanyeol, eyes still wide in shock, left hand grabbing the other boy’s sweater. 

“What? But… But we got separated from our friends. Are we safe? We aren’t in danger, right? We were just--” he whispered. He looked so small, sounded so uncharacteristically vulnerable that Chanyeol’s head started spinning. It was then when he felt something cold and hard against his tight - a knife in Baekhyun’s free hand, hidden from view between their bodies. He had to press his lips closed to avoid letting out the sound that was creeping up his throat. He felt so stupid, so fucked up, so ridiculously turned on.

One of the soldiers squinted. Baekhyun and him were half hidden in the darkness of the alley, but Chanyeol vaguely wondered whether they would be recognized, if told to step into the light. “Call your friends and go home with them,” the man finally ordered. “You shouldn’t be doing this out in the open. Go home.”

Baekhyun actually  _ giggled. _ “Yes, sir.”

And with that, the two men were back on his way, and Baekhyun’s angelic smile dissolved into a snort. “I’ve always thought that only the dumbest ones get Destined into the lower army ranks. They always fall for the most stupid lies.” He was still leaning against Chanyeol but the knife was gone now, inside his sleeve or wherever under his clothes it had come from. “Thanks for the help there. You’re such a darling when you want to.”

Chanyeol felt his own body flaring with something akin to shame. The high of adrenaline was receding, fast, and now that he could think again, he felt much less like a top player and much more like the average loser. He should have known. “You mean you decided that making out with me was the best solution for avoiding Obelisk soldiers.”

“Partially. Sex makes people uncomfortable, so it was worth a try, but I also felt like kissing you.”

“For what, shutting me up? How nice of you.”

Baekhyun stepped back, all innate grace, when Chanyeol attempted to push him away. “I tell you every time, I am providentially nice,” he started, but he froze mid-sentence a second after, turning his head towards the part of the street covered in thicker shadows. “What’s this?” he asked out loud. “I know we’re not alone, I see you.”

Chanyeol could not see a thing, but he caught the gleam of steel in Baekhyun’s right hand, swallowed when he heard words piercing the silence. “You’re Sigma?” someone asked, and the boy froze in place because he recognized the voice. He could have, anywhere, but it was  _ impossible. _ “Should have probably suspected you weren’t clean; that eye job you have looks too expensive for an amateur.”

“So it’s you.” Baekhyun laughed in disbelief. “You are our contact, the one with info on Morpheus? I have to admit you tricked me well when we met.”

_ It can’t be. _ The person walked towards them, silhouette coming out of the shadows. Even in the dimness, Chanyeol could see him, then - black hair, tanned skin, dark, dark eyes.  _ What’s going on?  _

He  _ really _ felt like he was going to be sick, now. “Jongin?” he whispered. 

His friend looked up at him. He didn’t smile. “Hello, Chanyeol,” he replied. “How have you been?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soooo, many things happened :D Did you expect the contact to be this person or not? :D
> 
> This was the chapter for February, did you like it? Remember that, until I finish my BAE fic (which goes up in May) I will be updating once a month only, so Login 07 will be published in March. 
> 
> Let me a comment below, though, to let me know what you think. It would be really appreciated.
> 
> Thank you very much for reading and see you soon!


	8. Login 07

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welps hi everyone and sorry for the three months hiatus! 
> 
> As I said, I was working on my fic for BAE17, and in the end that story took me much more time than I expected, so I needed to leave this fic aside for a while until I finished ;u;
> 
> But well, that's already done, so Codename is back and starting today it will be back at its regular update speed! Hope you enjoy and see you at the end of the chapter!

**Login 07**

 

“I take it that you have fake ID chips,” Jongin said.

 Baekhyun nodded, expression deceptively blank. Chanyeol was still speechless.

 “Why are you—” he tried to ask when he found his voice, knotted somewhere in his throat. Jongin didn’t even spare him a glance.

 “Come on then. You avoided the first batch of patrols, but if the Obelisk is something, it is persistent. They’ll be back.”

 Baekhyun sighed, shrugging. He still had Jongin’s neon orange jacket tied around his waist, so he took it off and offered it to their contact. “You didn’t call on them, did you?” he said, fingers gripping the fabric harder when Jongin went to grab it. “I would be desolated to learn so.”

 “Me? Giving you away to the Obelisk? Don’t make me laugh. They were there because the network server you used to demand information is secured but not safe enough. If I could get inside in anon so could they, and they always have eyes in that kind of stuff.”

 “I was asking just in case. If you do something funny, well, Zero here has a gun.”

 “Zero?” Jongin finally looked at him for more than a second. It was the kind of glance someone would give to the type of person who would never shoot, and the shock inside of Chanyeol started to fade into white heat beneath his ribcage. Jongin had always had an easy life. Jongin was an office worker, and a gamer in his team, and his friend. He’d had his Destiny sorted since childhood. He’d been there patting Chanyeol in the back whenever he had felt down for being Dreamless. “Come with me. I’ll take you to a place where we can speak.”

 Baekhyun seemed okay with the plan, and Chanyeol _wanted to know_ too much to oppose the idea, so they both followed Jongin as he took them deeper into the network of neon-lit alleys. They were leaving Fourth Ward, the boy soon realized, forward into the busy streets of Fifth. The path his friend chose had been mostly empty until he took a turn into a secondary street riddled with partygoers coming out from smaller discos and pubs. A pretty girl in a white dress stumbled across the street supported by two friends, and almost collapsed in front of Chanyeol as he was passing by.

“Hey, sorry,” one of the friends said, sounding pretty drunk. She looked up at his face and blinked in a fruitless attempt to focus her gaze. “Do you want to dance with me?

“We’re in the middle of the street; there’s no music here,” Chanyeol tried to excuse himself, voice a bit shaky, even if that wasn’t exactly true. He could hear an amalgam of muffled sounds coming from the different clubs, a mixture of electronic beats and white noise that made that whole night feel even more surreal. When he finally left the girls behind, he caught Baekhyun’s gaze on him out of the corner of his eye. And of course he had to be smiling.

“What a party pooper,” he told him, eyes still on Jongin as he advanced before them, always forward. “‘We are in the middle of the street’, he says.”

“Did you want me to stop and dance with her  _ now _ ?”

“Nah, I already realized that dancing doesn’t seem to really be your thing. You rejected me too, when I asked.”

“We were in a mission. We still are.”

“I can multitask.”

“Well, I don’t.”

He would have started ranting about drunk people and smirking hot bastards in tight pants, but he decided that focusing his attention on Jongin was far more productive and so he kept his eyes on him until he stopped in front of the dark glass entrance of a building, next to the back exit of a disco. He swiped his wrist in front of a chip reader and the door opened for them long enough for all three to step in. It didn’t took long for Chanyeol to realize they were in the narrow hallway of an apartment block, and that the place they were in was three Wards away from Jongin’s actual house.

“Where are we?” he asked, as they ignored the elevator and went for the stairs at the back of the vestibule. It took his friend all the way to the first floor hallway to reply.

“My base of operations. I told you, it’s safe.”

He had stopped in front of a metal door painted in dark red, and he swiped his wrist again over the reader on the side of it to make it open. The apartment at the other side was dim and one-roomed, and full to the brim with electronics.

“Impressive,” commented Baekhyun. “And you looked like such an innocent little thing at the M.O.N.S.T.E.R tournament feeds.”

Chanyeol was the last one to step inside, letting the door close behind him with a clank. “Where did you get all this?”

“Black market. You know how this works.”

_ I actually don’t…? _

The faint greenish light of one of the monitors was casting everything in the room in an eerie, greenish glow, even though the colorful neon of the signs and billboards in the street was coming through the window. They were right above the disco they had just seen when they walked in, Chanyeol believed, because even there he could feel the floor slightly vibrate to the rhythm of the muffled music. It was electronic and repetitive, a cadence that went all too well with the computers and monitors on the walls, the cables on the floor and the big, reclinable gamer chair in the middle of the room, a huge black thing with a built-in M.O.N.S.T.E.R IVR visor and integrated status screens.

“If your fake chips are traceable, I recommend you change them for new ones when you leave this place. I wouldn’t like the Obelisk at my door if you eventually get caught.”

Chanyeol opened his mouth to reply before Baekhyun took over. “Like hell anyone’s going to trace us. Excuse you, but these are Do Kyungsoo’s handiwork. I am assuming you know him?”

“Who doesn’t? He’s quite the genius. He’s also expensive, though.”

“I would know. He did my eyes. It was one hell of an intrusive surgery, that one, but they were worth every credit I spent.”

“He’s more meticulous than most, that’s true. He installed my connection port too. I had to pay him in advance, but the implant has been working perfectly.”

“Ah, so you also work with the very best. I’m glad to have found someone who appreciates quality.” Baekhyun nodded and grinned and went to sit to the green sofa in one corner of the room, with the calm confidence of someone who’s at his own house and talking to his own friend. Chanyeol stood close to the entrance door, eyes wide open and hand still closed around the gun in his sweater pocket. He realized that he was grabbing it and forced himself to let go, then turned to Jongin.

“Connection port? What connection port?”

Jongin sighed, removing his jacket and throwing it on the sofa before pulling the collar of his t-shirt down to show Chanyeol the back side of his neck. There was silver on his skin, directly on his spine: an enhanced connection port, like the ones Kyungsoo had talked about. The boy thought he was going to be sick.

“Since when do you have… that?” he asked. Jongin seemed to meditate for a while.

“I got it after we won the M.O.N.S.T.E.R championships. This was where all my share of the big credit prize went.”

“Why would you?”

“Isn’t it obvious?”

It should have been, maybe. Sehun had always been Chanyeol’s best friend, but he had believed he knew Jongin well. “I just— I don’t know!” Jongin’s life had been easy since his early teens. The Obelisk treated the family members of their Dreamers well, and his sister had awoken as one when he was a kid. Baekhyun bore a heavy grudge when it came to the Obelisk but Jongin had no reason to.

_ Wait.  _ Chanyeol froze.  _ His sister. _

“I am glad you’re okay, by the way,” said Jongin, before Chanyeol could directly ask him. “I heard from Sehun that you were Destined as a soldier and sent to fight out of the Dome. I wondered what you did to anger the silver tower bastards, but sadly there wasn’t much that I could have done. Your fans were desolated - some of them still are, you need to see the kind of messages they leave on our Network board - but I see you haven’t been doing that bad. You seem healthy enough, all of your limbs are intact and you have gotten yourself a boyfriend.”

From the sofa, Baekhyun gave them both his best shit-eating grin. “What boyfriend? Are you getting all domestic and stable with someone behind my back, Zero?”

For a moment, Jongin was his old friend again. “Ah,  _ ah,  _ I’m sorry, I just saw you two back in the alley and assumed—”

“Nah, we just make out every once in a while. Because I am collaborative like that, you see. It is convenient sometimes, and I am willing to make the sacrifice.”

“Really? I didn’t think Chanyeol would—”

Chanyeol’s head was actually starting to hurt. “Wait, Jongin. I’m sure you have to know this - is my family okay?”

“Why shouldn’t they be? Apparently, the Obelisk has issues with  _ you _ , not them. As long as they don’t know more than they should, they will be safe. You haven’t tried to contact them, haven’t you?” He nodded when Chanyeol shook his head. “Then keep it like that and everything will be fine.”

Baekhyun leaned back on the sofa, arching his back like a cat. “Have all the personal issues been taken care of? Does this mean we can move on to business?” Both he and Jongin were looking at Chanyeol, so the boy simply nodded while he observed his friend pace towards the center of the cramped room. Baekhyun kept on after that. “So, you wanted to contact me because you had some information on Project Morpheus that you were willing to share, ain’t that so? If that’s the case, I’m all ears.”

“Can I trust this man?” Jongin asked Chanyeol. “He’s come with you. Are you certain that he is who he says he is?”

Baekhyun snorted. “Of course you can!”

“If you’re looking for the terrorist Sigma, then it’s him. The Obelisk wants him, he’s not lying.Probably half of the city does, for one thing or another.”

Jongin considered the answer for a moment, then nodded. “Very well. You see, my sister,” he said. “She’s a Dreamer.”

_ Ah,  _ thought Chanyeol,  _ so I was right. _ Baekhyun leaned forward on his seat, hands on his knees. There was something suddenly predatory in the lines of his body, as if the air was heavier around him. 

“You know how this usually goes: she awoke in her teenage years, and the Obelisk knew, and they took her,” Jongin continued. “It was a great honor for our family, and of course the Obelisk made sure we knew what a great contribution her gift was for the big cause of this city. My parents believed it; they were so proud. And I was happy. For years, I was ignorant. Until I received a certain… message. An encrypted communication from the silver tower.”

“You  _ what _ ?” Chanyeol whispered.

“What was it?”

Baekhyun had asked calmly, with a tone so low that it set all of Chanyeol’s nerves on edge. He wasn’t smiling, but Jongin did, in a way that felt utterly foreign. “Do you want to see?”

He went to sit at the reclinable chair at the center of the room, sighing before situating his head over the integrated IVR visor, effectively covering his face. There was a connection cable at the back of it, and Chanyeol swallowed and looked away when he realized Jongin was going to plug that into his own spine. He was definitely going to be sick - he already was, almost, and he didn’t want anyone to know, so was somehow glad when he looked up and realized that Baekhyun’s eyes were already focused on the biggest screen on the room wall, even before it completely switched onto life. For once, he wasn’t smiling. For once, he wasn’t paying any attention to him at all.

“I keep this one file in a special chip in my brain. I made Kyungsoo install it only for that.” Jongin’s voice sounded strangely metallic from under the full-head visor, muffled by the vibrations of the dance music below. “I figured it was the safest place to keep it, the only one where they wouldn’t guess it was.”

An image appeared on the monitor, something white and blurry over a background of black noise. The shape was barely anthropomorphic, a trembling ghost with a shaky, distorted voice. “Jongin,” it said. Chanyeol could barely make out the word. “Nini.”

Baekhyun frowned. “What is—”

Suddenly, the image dissolved into a blur of grey and the words that followed were lost in a loud, static-like noise. The picture came into focus after that, and what certainly was a human figure took shape before them. It was a woman, standing very still among the static, and Chanyeol hadn’t seen her before but could still recognize Jongin’s tanned skin and dark hair in her. She couldn’t have been older than sixteen or seventeen when she recorded that.

Jongin had been younger than her, and he was twenty.

“Nini,” she said again. She was dressed in a white hospital gown, and had a white metallic ring that covered her eyes like a blindfold. She looked wet, as if she had just taken a bath with her clothes on, and she sounded so  _ alarmed. _ “Jongin, listen to me. You have to—” The image blurred, her voice faded, then it all came into focus again. “—are wrong. They don’t need us Dreamers anymore. The O— some— se of Project Morpheus it i—” She looked around, clawing her temples to try to take the visor-thing off as the image came in and out of focus. “—lp me. We are not needed. They are eliminating us.”

She looked to her right and opened her mouth in a silent scream. Her hand moved forward, towards them, and then everything dissolved into white. The video was over, and the only thing that could be heard in the tiny room were the dulled beats of a song. Chanyeol didn’t know what to do or what to say. His throat was so dry it almost hurt him to breathe, but his heart was beating so, so hard, a bird trapped in a cage and flapping its wings.

There were no free birds inside the Dome. All of them were raised in captivity as pets, as food.

When he looked at Baekhyun, the boy looked so livid, scared and angry in such a raw way that Chanyeol felt panic creeping up his chest, clawing at his throat like a wild beast. “Who are the 'they' she's talking about?” he croaked. “The Obelisk? The Obelisk is  _ eliminating _ Dreamers?”

“I knew it,” Baekhyun whispered.

“I couldn’t take this information anywhere, I didn’t know what to do with it, or who to speak to so I started Breaking after I got it,” said Jongin. He had taken the visor off but was still sitting on the chair, looking at them. “I figured that I needed to get my own info if I wanted to know, but even after that I’ve only managed to get tiny bits here and there. All of the Project Morpheus-related data is made of high security, encrypted files, directly coming from the silver tower itself.”

“I knew it. I fucking knew.”

“My guess is they take Dreamers into the tower and… kill them, or do something to them there. I’ve been trying to guess, but…”

Baekhyun clicked his tongue. “Not to the tower,” he interrupted. “They aren’t there.”

When Chanyeol looked at him again, eyes wide, the other man looked like himself again - only sharper, all edges of steel. “What do you mean they aren’t there?”

Baekhyun actually chuckled, the sound short and sudden, like a twig snapping. “Do you know why the Obelisk wants to catch me so bad? The official statement says Codename Sigma is a traitor against the Dream, a terrorist and a murderer, but that is not the truth. I am known as the number one wanted terrorist in town because I’m the only man who managed to break into the place Dreamers were kept and found no one inside.”

_ What the fuck. _

“You broke into—?”

“The silver tower? Yes. They thought no one would be able to but surprise, I did. Sadly, I was young and inexperienced when I did it; if I went back today I would use my chance to burn it down.”

Jongin frowned. “Wait, how old are you?”

“Twenty-three.”

“And how old were you when you got into the Obelisk tower?”

“Sixteen.”

Chanyeol pressed his lips, hard. He could feel his mind reeling, the rational, realistic part of his brain screaming that something like that  _ couldn’t be right. _ He had thought himself quite the edgy rebel for Breaking into official databases in high school, but Baekhyun had been walking into the  _ fucking silver tower _ at the same age?

“Impressive,” muttered Jongin. And it  _ was _ impressive, that Chanyeol would admit: even though he knew how Baekhyun was, it felt like too risky, too much. But even if it was, the boy couldn’t help the disbelief, the flash of anger. The tower was empty. Baekhyun knew. He had known for years.

“Isn’t it fun? This whole city has been following the visions in the Dream, the Destiny Dreamers see while they sleep in the silver tower, but what do you get when you get inside? Nothing. There’s nothing. No Dreamers there. Only computers that monitor the town, and guards, and old used technology and empty space. And they call  _ me  _ a traitor to the Dream. I figured out the Dreamers were dead; guess that message was the confirmation I needed. Directly eliminated by the Obelisk itself, huh. What a shame.”

Too convenient. The Destiny the Dream showed had always been too convenient, Chanyeol knew that. “So the letters,” he whispered. Or the lack of letters. “They are what, written by the government out of pure creativity?”

“Or convenience, I’d say. They like you? They feed you beautiful lies. They don’t? They steal your Destiny away, in the ugly way. You’ll be out if you refuse to listen.”

Chanyeol tried to blink. Breathe. Focus. “Does Minseok know? Jongdae?”

“Of course they know. I told them.”

“And why didn’t you tell me?”

“I kind of did. I told you the Obelisk was lying to you, didn’t I?”

Chanyeol parted his lips, then closed them. He swore he had never wanted to hit Baekhyun in the center of that smug, pretty face as much as he wanted to right then.

“But why would a sixteen year old boy enter the most high-security place in the whole town?” asked Jongin, who still looked positively impressed by Baekhyun’s general existence. “That doesn’t look like someone would do without a good reason.”

“Ah, it was pretty personal. I got my surgery for that and all.” Baekhyun smiled at them, like it was no big deal, like it was the normal thing to do. “You see, my boyfriend when I was fifteen was my Destined person. _And_ a Dreamer. Which meant he could see what my Destiny was, and he told me. And I thought it all would go great in my life until the Obelisk came and took him away, and when I was wondering what could have gone wrong, they sent me a letter telling me that my fate had appeared in the Dream. It was a pretty good letter, mind me, and all the information was accurate except for one bit - the part that concerned _him._ They had deleted him from my life. And I knew they were lying. They had to be lying. I learned they were.”

Chanyeol just looked at him, speechless. Breathe in, breathe out. He hadn’t know any of that either. He couldn’t have. Of course Baekhyun had had a Destiny, whispered to his ear first, then delivered to him in a neat, pretty letter.

“Did you learn something else in the tower?” asked Jongin.

“Not really. I went in there unprepared. I was young and stupid, I told you. The only thing I did all that for was to get my boyfriend out. I didn’t exactly have a plan B in case he had been killed, so I broke a couple of things and ran. I managed to join Xiumin’s little group later, thanks to the fame that I earned, so it wasn’t all in vain. And despite the failure it was fun, you know? Empowering. To sneak under their noses and walk right into the place they were trying to keep so, so safe.” Baekhyun smiled, so wide, canines showing at the corner of his lips. “I searched for the Dreamers after, of course, but there’s no trace of them, even now. They  _ are  _ supposed to be in the tower, and there’s no other place they could be. And I already knew they were being killed and we were being lied to, but I wanted to know  _ why.  _ But most people in the Obelisk still believe that Dreamers are safe in the tower, so questioning middle and lower ranks doesn’t help. High-ranking officers are too well protected for us to try to get them. And data… Data is our only viable choice, but the security measures are so high that all of the Breakers in our ranks failed to retrieve it. With disastrous consequences, I have to admit.”

_ Disastrous consequences…? _ Chanyeol swallowed.

“I’ve tried to Break too, but without a team my level it’s been complicated,” stated Jongin. “There’s no way in hell I can solo that kind of security.”

“Not enough of a pro, huh?” Baekhyun chuckled, patting Chanyeol in the back with a huge grin. “Well, that’s why we got ourselves an upgrade.”

His hand was just there, on his shoulder, thumb resting on the naked skin on the crook of Chanyeol’s neck. His touch was warm, too warm, in the coldness of the computer room. The AC system was on, Chanyeol thought, to keep the CPUs cool enough to function. Perhaps that was why he felt someone had punched him in the gut. It had to be the cold. The cold. “What was your boyfriend’s name?” he asked.

“Ah, it’s probably familiar,” Baekhyun replied, without bating an eyelash. “Zhang Yixing, remember?”

Chanyeol remembered the dark ice. Remembered the sensation of it trapping him. He could relive it, over and over again - he felt like he was reliving it  _ then. _ “Yeah.”

“That was a prodigious Breaking you did. I’m still impressed. I wanted to look on data about him, because whatever reason they are killing the Dreamers for, he  _ was  _ murdered for it. We didn’t get much, of course, but we got stuff on Morpheus. It’s a shame we couldn’t dig deeper.”

_ Seriously. We? _

There was no point in feeling stupid. If there was one thing Baekhyun hadn’t hidden, it was his prodigious capacity to be an asshole. “Let me get something clear,” Chanyeol said. “You knew that the files had that kind of heavy protection and you still tried to make me Break in from the computer in my apartment?”

Baekhyun blinked at him, nonchalantly. “Yes?”

“Because the computer in my apartment obviously had enough potency to download all the data you needed before security forced a disconnection, of course.”

That time, Baekhyun looked slightly puzzled. “What?”

“It’s true that Breaking is mostly about skill. Breaking in, just that. But if you want to be able to actually  _ get _ the data you’ve hacked into, you need to do it from a place where you can access and download said data from. There’s only a short period of time to do that after a successful Break - minutes or seconds - before security fries you. Guess what happened when you almost got me killed.”

Baekhyun considered him with a faint smile for a moment. “You did good back then. Do you mean you could have done even better?”

“I  _ can _ always do better. Especially when I know what I’m up against.”

“Ah. Really?” Baekhyun’s lips curled up. “That’s good to know.” He looked so confident, and too smug, and Chanyeol would have pushed him against the cushions of the sofa just to make him shut up, but he was more than certain than Baekhyun would just laugh at his face. The Obelisk had worked so hard on ruining his life by feeding him lies; that bastard was working even harder on telling his secrets to everyone else but to him. Whatever happened to him, whatever it was Chanyeol felt, Baekhyun wouldn’t  _ care _ .

Which was funny as fuck because it was obvious that Baekhyun needed him.

“It would have been useful to know what you were trying to do, yeah. Maybe that way things would have worked out. And now that we’re at it, do you want me to tell you a couple of useful things on this matter?” Chanyeol raised his eyebrows, trying to keep his tone even. Jongin was watching, Baekhyun was watching, and he basked in the two seconds of absolute attention he got before proceeding. “If there’s an active mention that links that Zhang Yixing ID files to that Project Morpheus thing, there’s a high possibility of an actual Morpheus database existing. The Obelisk network system keeps its files connected, in a sense - once you know where to Break in, it’s possible to use their own system to go to places that would be banned otherwise. And if there was that much security in a simple ID database, it might be because it’s possible to access from  _ that _ base to somewhere else.”

“That’s… yeah. That’s what I was thinking about,” whispered Jongin.

“And what does that mean?” asked Baekhyun.

“That it may be possible to Break into a second database from the first one, by using a good enough computer. A stronger one. Government level. If I was connected to  _ their _ network to begin with, we could start Breaking from inside of their first security firewall.”

“So you  _ could _ get more data on Yixing and the Dreamers if you had a better computer to connect from,” repeated Baekhyun. There was an undercurrent of tension in his voice, an intensity in the way he was, for once, giving Chanyeol his undivided attention. Chanyeol should have felt satisfied that he had the upper hand, but he felt upset, so upset.

But funny thing, he was the Breaker. He was the one who could fish for the truth - black binary code over white noise. Jongin wasn’t as good as he was. And Baekhyun couldn’t. Even if he loved to pretend that he had everything under control.

“I could. Give me a computer that’s connected to the Obelisk outer network and I’ll Break in.”

“Any idea of where to find one of those?”

Chanyeol rose his eyebrows at Baekhyun. “Ah, I don’t know. I thought you were the one in charge of the plans?”

When he looked at him, Baekhyun had his lip ring trapped under his teeth. He observed him in silence one, two, three seconds, then he cocked his head to the side and smirked. “If you want a government computer, baby boy, I’ll get you one.”

Chanyeol scoffed. “Don’t bother.” He was pretty sure that Baekhyun’s way of getting him a computer would consist of a stupid reckless plan, a frantic escape through the sewers and possibly explosions. He needed peace if they wanted him to work - and half the Obelisk army going after them wasn’t exactly a suitable Breaking environment. Especially if it could be avoided.  _ Unluckily for you, I happen to be cleverer than you give me credit for. _ “There’s no need to go full aggressive when Jongin and I have a friend who actually  _ works _ at the Dream Research Department, don’t you think?”

Jongin gasped. “You want to ask Junmyeon for help?”

“We don’t have to use his passcodes to log in - we  _ are  _ Breakers after all - but he can open a few closed doors for us, right? The computer I’d need would probably be in a restricted access floor… He could get us a keycard to get in, if we asked.”

“He’s not— Chanyeol, he’s not into this.”

“Well, maybe he deserves to know what happened to me. He’s been my teammate for years, after all - I’d like to be informed if he had been the one taken away by the Obelisk. And besides, it’s obvious that you haven’t advanced that much in your investigation by keeping it a secret from everyone that cares for you. You should have told Junmyeon, and me. And Sehun. In fact, you  _ are _ going to tell Sehun as well.”

“Me?”

“I want to meet them. I am assuming that you want me to help, so arrange it. The Obelisk is after Baekhyun and me, but you’re still clean.”

“That’s not—” Jongin turned to stare at Baekhyun, as if he was sure the oh-so-illustrious-Sigma was going to shut Chanyeol up, but the man had his eyes on Chanyeol, his smile almost amused.

“What do you have in mind, Zero?”

_ Ah, so now you want me to tell you.  _ “Sehun’s Destiny given job is at the trash department. You know, Waste Disposal. For the whole town.”

Jongin looked positively confused, but Baekhyun blinked once, twice, and then bursted out laughing. It was a lovely sound, all raspy and low, and Chanyeol clenched his fists on his lap. “I see,” Baekhyun almost singsonged. “Listen to me, Jongin: I want them. Zero’s right about this: arrange a meeting and we’ll talk to them in person.”

“It can be done, but—”

“What’s the problem, then? Do it. And I’ll help you get what you want.”

That was the issue with Baekhyun: he offered. He loved buying himself stuff with things that weren’t his to give. “I promise you that we won’t get them involved if they don’t want to be,” whispered Chanyeol. “We’ll just talk for a while.”

His friend sighed, looking at him like the boy he had always known usually did for the first time since they had arrived. He looked so foreign there, among all his illegal, buzzing machines. “Chanyeol. I really didn’t want for you to be involved in all this mess either.”

“But you need me. And I already am. And you’re not the one who got me into this mess in the first place. But we’re both here, and now that we know we are in this together we should try to cooperate. So help me?”

Slowly, Jongin nodded. “I suppose I could tell them, the next time we meet. Our team meetings feel kind of lonely without you, you know? We all miss you there.”

_ I miss them too.  _ Despite its many flaws, his life had been easier when his lack of Destiny was his deepest fear, and when M.O.N.S.T.E.R had been only a game. When he had thought he wasn’t angry anymore and he didn’t feel betrayed enough to risk it all and connect to the network from a Dream-forsaken Obelisk computer. Which he was going to do, as soon as he could. Because he needed to, and he found out that he wanted to, like a little voice in his head was telling him to  _ dig all the shit they hid out _ until he couldn’t be lied to anymore.

They should have given him a better Fate, if he wanted him to remain quiet and follow orders.

But now then, it seemed that even Destiny-driven governments made mistakes.

“I’m glad you haven’t forgotten me. I’ll say hi to everyone soon.”

—

Baekhyun kept looking at him, eyes on his profile and on his face and on his back, their whole way towards Fifth Ward subway station. He still looked amused, almost like he could start chuckling at any moment, but there was something else, something charged with electricity behind the synthetic grey of his eyes.

The problem with bionic prosthetics was that, no matter how well done, they never looked completely human. An artificial gaze like that was always hard to read, and Chanyeol didn’t exactly feel in the mood to play games.

“What?” he whispered.

The light of dawn had dyed the opaque glass of the Dome of a soft, quartz-like pink color over their heads. It looked so pale against the dark shapes of the buildings and Baekhyun’s bright party clothes. Sometimes, Chanyeol forgot that there was no sky at the Dome, no clouds or sun or stars like in the Old Era photos. He remembered in moments like those: in empty alleys, after all the party-goers had gone home and all that remained were blinking neons and wet sidewalks and silence.

“Nothing.” Baekhyun had his hands in his jacket pockets. He looked deceptively relaxed, his black hair falling messily over his forehead. His eyes, Chanyeol realized, were almost the same color of the Dome wall. “You impressed me again, that’s all; twice tonight. You’re full of surprises, Zero boy.”

“Oh, really? How so?”

“You’ve got friends in relevant places. And you know what to do, with them and by yourself. How to run from men chasing you, how to get information. I was actually right the night I met you: you have it in you - rebellion inside.”

Chanyeol didn’t exactly feel like talking to Baekhyun. He didn’t want a compliment or a teasing smirk. His whole body felt heavy, and he  _ wanted  _ to be tired; even though his mind was awake and boiling and aware of the curve in Baekhyun’s lips. “It’s not rebellion I want,” he whispered. “Only truth.”

There was a glint in the other man’s eyes as he turned around, stopping in his tracks. “You’re annoyed.”

“I want to go home.”

“Annoyed at me.”

“Like that was something new. Seriously.”

“What is it?”

“Baekhyun…” He didn’t need to discuss it. He didn’t need to have that argument then. He didn’t need the person who was turning his life upside down to be able to read him when he got nothing in return.

“You know, we can’t be partners if you don’t tell me what’s in your mind, Zero boy. I am pretty open minded; I’m not gonna get mad.”

“Mad at me? You?” Chanyeol scoffed. “By the Dream, Baekhyun, why don’t you take your own fucking advice for once?”

Baekhyun took a step towards him, then another. He looked feline, amused and curious - the type of creature who loved playing with his food before going for the kill. “Me?” he asked. His voice sounded so soft; he didn’t need to raise it: it carried in the silence of the dawn. Chanyeol swallowed, clenching his fists. He was tired, so tired, wide awake, scared and  _ done. _

“Yeah, you. Remember when I told you I wanted you to tell me what was going on? Or have you forgotten?”

“What about it?”

“I don’t know. What about you being so cooperative and telling Jongin everything he wanted to know but hiding the most important facts away from  _ me _ ? I was sent to the army, Baekhyun! I got— I didn’t get a single good letter from the Obelisk, and you decided it would be great for me to help you blindly even though you knew there was not a single Dreamer inside of the silver tower!” Baekhyun was close, and Chanyeol was whispering, hurried and demanding, because he didn’t want to scream. The more he thought about it, the more panicked he felt: he had always known the Obelisk’s idea of Destiny sounded too convenient, but he had been played like a puppet dancing on strings and Baekhyun had known and had remained quiet, smiling and watching the show.  


And his reason was…? “I was waiting, in fact, before I told you. To see if you could take it, you know. If you were useful.”

“And you have decided now that  _ I am?” _

Baekhyun looked up at him. “Yes.” It sounded resolute, as certain as an unavoidable truth. “I know Destiny when I see it, Zero. Not the farce that the Obelisk is feeding everyone, but real Fate. And I’m certain it was Destiny, for you and I to meet.”

Chanyeol wanted to take a step back, but he forced himself not to. Baekhyun was smiling like a fanatic, and Chanyeol had never believed in unavoidable Fate in the first place.  _ It’s convenient for them, convenient for you. _ “Come on, Byun. Destiny? You hooked up with me so you could trick me into getting data of your dead Dreamer boyfriend.”

He realized too late that he had sounded bitter, much more than he had intended. He didn’t want Baekhyun to know, but of course he was always alert when it came to ruining him. “Wow. So you’re upset because of that.”

_ No. Yes.  _ Chanyeol didn’t know. “You could have told me that, too. That all of this… mess started with you wanting to get an epic romantic revenge on the ones who wronged your soulmate.” He could have told him before he got him in prison. He could have told him before he kissed him. Twice. It wasn’t like Chanyeol had ever expected someone like Baekhyun to actually care for him, but it was pathetic to realize that the bastard was playing with him while he felt so strongly for the memory of someone else.

Baekhyun hadn’t taken his own eyes off because he though synthetic irises looked cool; he had gone under surgery at age sixteen to enhance himself for his silver tower break.

“Why does it matter to you? I had a Destined person, yes, but he’s gone. Do you need me to be your one and only to fight by my side? Your Dream-chosen soulmate to get your hands under my shirt? What are you, one of those old romantics who only get involved with the one who’s right for them? Or are you scared of someone like me corrupting your virtue and keeping you busy while your one true love is out there waiting for you?”

Despite himself, Chanyeol laughed out loud. It was humorless, bitter. He wondered how in the world Baekhyun always managed to hit in the place that hurt the most. “What? No. If I had decided to only had sex with the person I the Dreamers wanted me to end up with I would have died a virgin.”

“So what? You know who they are and you don’t like them?”

Chanyeol hated to talk about that. He hated it so much. “No. I don’t know their name, but I already got a letter from the Obelisk telling me they are dead, so it's not like it matters.”

He still remembered the moment, of him getting home to his mother telling him that he had finally got correspondence from the silver tower. He had thought that he would be finally be given a Destiny, that he would stop being Dreamless once and for all, but he had found a black envelope on his bed and condolences written on the thick paper inside.

Teenage Chanyeol wasn’t only Dreamless, but he would die alone as well. Apparently, he only appeared in the Dream for bad news, and that had made him both sad and furious. Adult Chanyeol could trust Sehun to find him someone to spend the night with if he was feeling lonely, and he had calmed down, but the old anger was still there, a dulled flame that rekindled once in a while, that made him play M.O.N.S.T.E.R and Break because that way he could shoot things in the face without consequences.

No matter how self-entitled Baekhyun was, there were some things that Chanyeol didn’t want to be reminded about.

“So that makes two of us with our Destined person gone, eh? What’s the problem then, about me having fun with you for a little while?”

Chanyeol shook his head. “It’s not that.”

Baekhyun wouldn’t understand. Baekhyun couldn’t. He’d lost things, perhaps, but that meant he'd had them in the first place. He was used, in fact, to get whatever he desired, under the rules he set. Chanyeol never got anything. Not a word, not a look. Not a secret, not a choice. Apparently, not an opinion either.

“You want me,” Baekhyun said, fingers going to the string of his hoodie. He had pretty hands, a pretty face. He was absolutely out of Chanyeol’s league. “And you’re hot. And I offended you, didn’t I? So maybe I could do something for you to forgive me.”

“Baekhyun…”

“We started something, in an alley such as this one, a couple of hours ago. So tell me, you were into it, so why don’t we continue exactly where we left it? Get against the wall, baby boy; I really,  _ really _ want to suck you off.”

Chanyeol’s breath hitched in his throat. He opened his mouth to speak, but only a choked whine came out. And Baekhyun knew, the kind of effect he had in him, as he locked his gaze with his and slowly, so painfully slowly, fell onto his knees on the dirty alley floor.

“We are—”  _ on the street,  _ Chanyeol wanted to say, but Baekhyun just chuckled, warm hands coming to rest on his thighs.

“Try not to make noise if you’re so worried about someone finding out.”

Chanyeol looked down, heart hammering in his chest like a caged animal. Baekhyun had never stopped gazing at him, eyes sharp and silver as Dome glass, lips pink and wet with spit. He was waiting, fingers dangerously close to the fly of his jeans and Chanyeol’s blood felt like wildfire in his veins. He wanted that, he realized, just as Baekhyun had said - there was a part of him that was almost yearning to submit to whatever the boy wanted to do to him and another one, darker, that wanted Baekhyun’s lips around him until he _choked_ and begged, begged, _begged_ for release.

He didn’t know which side of him pulled harder. The only thing he was aware of was that he hadn’t even been touched, hadn’t even agreed to that and he already was painfully hard. Because his body was a traitor and his brain was a liar and Baekhyun was too good at reading his instincts but shit at knowing what was beneath.

“Baekhyun,” he growled, leaning forward so his hand was on his shoulder, so he had fabric to grab as the other boy looked up with a sly grin - knowing he was going to get what he wanted, that he had already won. Only, he hadn't. “ _ Fuck you.”  _ His fingers closed around the collar of Baekhyun’s jacket, pulling up until he forced him to stand. There was surprise on the boy's face for the fraction of a second - grey eyes open, pink lips parted - but Chanyeol was far too gone to enjoy it.

“What now? I thought you wanted me, this.”

_ “No.” _

Baekhyun’s hand was over his closed fist, on his own jacket. His fingers froze. He stared. “You really are mad,” he whispered.

“How considerate of you to realize. What gave me away, exactly? Was it me not accepting sex as a consolation prize or the fact that I called you out for not giving a fuck about lying to my face?”

“Well, I—”

Baekhyun was leaning forward, frowning, half challenging and half puzzled. Chanyeol wondered how many people in his life had told him  _ no,  _ besides the ones he wanted to burn to ashes. “Let me make something clear: you needed me when we met and you need me now. Jongin and Minseok and Jongdae are useful to you, yes, but I am the pawn you want to keep if you’re going for the checkmate.” He went to Baekhyun’s ear, whispered the words over his skin so he would stay still, and listen, and get it. Chanyeol was lost, but he wasn’t stupid. He wasn’t going to stand still and allow Baekhyun to treat him like the weakest link on the chain. “Again, you need me. That’s why you keep me around. Who is going to Break if I don’t do it? You? From the computer in my apartment? I’d love to see how you try.”

Baekhyun wasn’t smiling when he replied. “This is your mission too. Your true Destiny.”

At that, Chanyeol laughed, pushing the other man away. He hated that he was warm. He hated his own blood for being on fire. He hated Baekhyun for the things he said and the way he believed, so blindly. “Ah, but I am the most famous Dreamless boy of the Dome, Baekhyun. There’s no true Destiny for me. In fact, there’s none.”

Chanyeol had thought that he would be stopped as he walked past Baekhyun, but the other boy did nothing. He just let him go, arms crossed over his chest and grey eyes on him.

It was the first time since he knew him that Baekhyun had done something right.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So well, that was all for today!
> 
> Since we are back to the usual updating schedule, login 08 will be back in around three weeks! It's a long chapter so please expect it :D
> 
> And, as most of you know (I hope) I spend these last five months writing a fic for the BAE fest. I can't link it to you right now, since reveals are not out yet, but you'll probably see it on my AO3 profile if you check in one or two weeks.
> 
> Meanwhile, you can come say hi to my CuriousCat account: https://curiouscat.me/babyeol  
> Or to twitter: https://twitter.com/babyeoI
> 
> Have a nice day, everyone, and see you in the next chapter!


	9. Login 08

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Codename M.O.N.S.T.E.R started being serialized exactly a year ago, so happy birthday to Zero & Sigma!
> 
> I waited for this day to update especifically, so please celebrate he first anniversary of the story by reading the newest chapter!
> 
> Thanks for supporting me through this journey, I love you all! :D

**Login 08**

 

There came that dream sometimes, when Baekhyun slept. It felt warm like a memory, heavy with heartbreak, familiar and dreadful and at the same time unknown.

Yixing had told him about the visions he had started to have, in a soft, hushed voice under their shared sheets, back when Baekhyun still was one of the golden boys of the Dome - they would be together, he'd said, they'd run away from town, he'd whispered. He had mentioned a train, and a train Baekhyun saw when he closed his eyes, not one of the modern metro cars that linked the Wards to one another, but one of those antique, Old Era transports, like the ones in the movies.

They were sitting face to face, Yixing and he, not like they were but how they used to be - two teenage boys, so scared, desperate and hopefully in love with each other, with Destiny in their favour and all of the odds against. The car around them was a silent shell, totally empty except for them, but Baekhyun had endured the same nightmare enough times to know what was coming for them.

"You're sure, right?" he whispered. It was always like that, stupid variations of the same question. Teenage Baekhyun was a stupid, hopeless boy, with an easy smile on his face and fingers stained with blood-red ink. He used to think that the wall of the Dome looked pretty when the afternoon light filtered through the opaque walls. "We'll leave. You saw it. You really did."

Yixing nodded every time. He was a scrawny kid, all  _ ordinary _ , Baekhyun's Destined person and just the boy next door, the one with a mop of dark hair and the most oblivious expression ever. He had always seemed absent-minded, like his head was in his own world, but he had always been willing to share it with Baekhyun, if the boy only asked. He never expected, however, that Yixing's fantasies would turn into Dreams when he grew up. That someone else would actually want them, and take Yixing away from him for the sake of having them for their own.

Dreamers belonged in the silver tower. They remained there, sleeping, so everyone else could have a Destiny in which to trust. And Dreamers were happy to oblige, happy to stay: they had been chosen.

But not Yixing, not him. Not the boy sitting across Baekhyun in the silent compartment of an empty train. The one who had looked so torn when he had Awoken and had cried while telling his boyfriend the truth.

“I Dreamed about us,” he was whispering  _ now _ , fear in his eyes and a low tremor in his voice. “Being together. Running away in an old train. I saw it. You and me, I did.”

“Then it’s okay.” Baekhyun should have been the strong one, but his voice was the one to shake the hardest. He’d had that nightmare a thousand times, to the point where he could recognize he wasn’t even awake, but deep in sleep. He dreaded his own dreams, precisely because he was aware of what always came after, but still he lied, every single time. “You’ll see. We’ll make it. Destiny’s on our side after all.”

Yixing always smiled. “It is.” 

It should have been. It wasn’t. And Baekhyun waited in silence, hopelessly expecting that a train that had never existed would suddenly start moving and take them away.

It would not happen.

It never did.

First came the alarms, then the steps, and the scene changed after, from hopefulness to despair and from reverie to old, shattered memories. Teenage Baekhyun hadn’t known how to fight - his hands were soft, his fingers unused to the cold trigger of a gun. He was clever, enough to figure out an escape plan, but he was also too candid. He had hidden in the correct places but hadn’t covered his steps. He had asked around, hoping for help, but walls had ears and the Obelisk wasn’t one to let their Dreamers get away.

Destiny was on their side, Baekhyun knew as much, but the Obelisk could monitor the Dream and twist it, play with something that should have been set in stone and corrupt it. Make all the rights wrong. Send him lies written inside of a pretty, white envelope and then soldiers to hold him against the wall of an alley in one of the outer Wards when he called bullshit and refused to believe what he was told.

Baekhyun hadn’t been strong, but they had needed two men to hold him in place. They have punched him in the gut until he couldn’t breathe, hit him in the face until his left eye was so swollen could barely see. He still had looked at Yixing as he stood between him and the two people leading the search party, a tall, stern man in a military uniform and a pale boy in a white lab coat.

“Don’t hurt him,” Yixing was saying, but Yixing wasn’t supposed to protect him. “He isn’t meant to die. I know this. You have to let him leave.”

“But he’s a criminal,” the boy in the lab coat chirped. “He broke the law. He ran away. We should take him into custody, don’t you see? And judge him as a traitor to the Dream.”

Baekhyun had laughed at that. His chest had hurt when he did but it wasn’t like he cared about bruises or broken ribs. “A traitor?  _ Me?  _ You’re the ones desecrating Destiny here! The ones covering your tracks with lies! _ ” _

“We do not lie,” the army leader had said, and Baekhyun had scoffed.

“I know Destiny! Yixing told me what he saw and it’s not-- I knew the truth and you still tried to lie to me! To  _ us _ ! Tell him!” Desperate as he was, as he remembered, Baekhyun turned towards Yixing. He looked so scared and so sad and so defeated, to the point that he didn’t even seem like himself. That was the last image Baekhyun had of him, the one that would be imprinted in his brain and heart even as the years went by. “Tell them, you saw us in your Dream! Together!”

“I did.” It was simple. It was the truth. It was pointless.

“ _ See!? _ ” Baekhyun almost screamed. “Let him leave, I’m warning you know.  _ Let. Us. Leave.” _

The young man in the white lab coat sighed. “Or what?” he asked with the slow, irritating tone of an adult talking sense to a misbehaving child. so softly, always so softly. “Don’t pretend you know a thing about Fate, boy.”

_ Don’t pretend you have control over it for your convenience! _

Baekhyun pushed against his captors’ hold, struggling to break free until his chest burned with pain again and one of the soldiers smashed him back against the alley wall. White flashed in his vision as he gritted his teeth, trying not to scream when his head hit the concrete. He may had said something aloud, regardless, perhaps another curse, or a plea of Yixing’s name.

They wouldn’t listen, however. They wouldn’t stop. Baekhyun was a rag doll of a boy and Yixing was going to become those people’s pretty little toy. That, Baekhyun could see in his boyfriend’s pale face, in his wide, dark eyes and trembling lips as he looked at him - just looked, like he knew that was the last time they were going to see each other, ever.

“Leave him alone,” he whispered.

Baekhyun tried to focus his vision, but everything was already spinning.  _ “No!” _

“Let him go. I’ll go with you, but don’t hurt him.”

“Wait.” Everything hurt, everything was fading, and Baekhyun was sure he was going to die anyway. They wouldn’t let him run, they’d crush him like a bug the moment Yixing turned his back on him. They wouldn’t allow him to live, not when he knew they were lying, not when he’d burn the whole world to get his Destined person back.  _ You can’t fight Fate. You can’t. _

“Ah, you’re such a reasonable boy, Mr. Zhang. I can see us already getting along. But shall we go then? You must be really anticipating to see your new home.”

_ “No!” _

“You must behave, little boy.” The dark alley, with its concrete walls and its faded neon lights, was turning into white smoke, and everything that remained was white swirling fog, and Yixing’s back and he walked away - a treasure escorted by soldiers - and Doctor Lu’s voice as he observed him with a kind smile and dark, dark eyes. “Your Dreamer boyfriend has bargained for you, so you’ll get away with it this time, but we’ll be watching you, so be sure to be nice.”

There were no soldiers holding him in place anymore and Baekhyun had fallen, down, down, down, to the ground. “I’ll hunt you,” he spat. “I’ll get him back and I’ll make you pay.”

Doctor Lu tilted his head and chuckled. “Really. Do you think we would have let you live if you posed any danger?”

He had leaned down. had his hand on his shoulder, and he looked so condescending that Baekhyun would have killed him. He would, and maybe he should, now that they were alone and everything was still spinning around him but didn’t hurt anymore.

“Baekhyun? What’s wrong, Baekhyun?”

“What’s wrong, you say?”  _ Baekhyun’s s officially a corpse. He died. He died that night. _

He moved, and his body answered smoothly, muscle and bone trained to obey even through confusion and fear and pain. He felt around for his knife and grabbed it, and the other man’s body was so close that it was so  _ easy _ to catch him unaware and use his own position to his advantage until Baekhyun was the one on top of him, legs straddling his hips and blade on the warm skin of his neck.

“Shut up, will you?” he hissed.

A familiar voice let out an incredulous huff. “Hey, Sigma, I was just trying to wake you up at a decent hour. There’s no need to skin me for that, you know?”

Baekhyun blinked, eyes adjusting quickly and focusing on Jongdae’s face. The other man was scowling at him like he wasn’t the one with a knife on his neck, and Baekhyun grinned at the nerve. “I thought you knew I wasn’t a morning person.”

“I thought you were the type who doesn’t even  _ sleep.  _ I got worried about you after not seeing your beautiful face punching things around in the training room so I came to check if you were alive and all. Bad idea, it appears, seeing your way of thanking me.”

“I’m not really used to people waking me up.”  _ Or to oversleeping, for that matter. _ Baekhyun faked a very exaggerated sigh and took his blade away from Jongdae’s neck, moving to stand up and looking around. Sunlight was bursting into his room and the glass wall of the Dome was pale grey at the other side of the window. He wasn’t really used to being in that place without having to turn the light switch on. The walls looked empty, the furniture scarce, the closed notebooks on the table so… unreal next to the mini-blaster he had carried inside of his boot during the mission the night before.

“I can’t say I’m surprised but do you really sleep with a knife under your pillow? I thought going to bed with that piercing thing of yours was paranoid enough.”

“What can I say, I am a kinky little bastard.” Baekhyun smirked, feeling the weight of the weapon between his fingers for a moment before placing it on his desk, close to his gun. He looked out the window again, keeping the tone casual enough. “What time is it?”

“Noon. Almost.”

Which meant a whole morning lost. That was what happened when he went to bed with too many things in his head. He didn’t like having to think. Opposite to  _ just acting _ , it made everything complicated.

“Leader told you, right? What we found out last night.”

“I got a pretty good summary, yes. How did you take the news?”

_ Horribly, obviously. _

“It was just confirmation of what I knew, so pretty well. We got a nice deal out of it too. I was basically expecting some sort of attention seeking kid  _ or _ a trap when we went out to meet that contact, but we got ourselves a really nice ally. The kid is a Breaker, and had insider info from a Dreamer sister, not to mention a couple of really good contacts.”

“And who are those contacts exactly?  _ Chanyeol _ ’s M.O.N.S.T.E.R team?”

Jongdae sounded half accusative, half amused. Baekhyun had just woken up and didn’t feel like having that conversation. He had three pieces of furniture in his room: the bed, the desk and the wardrobe, and he walked towards that last one while clicking his tongue. “Hey, down with the sass! I forgot that the kid had friends in high places. Or more like I… overlooked it. I didn’t think it was something necessary for him to Break.”

“You could have asked him?”

“Did you? You live with him too.”

“I am not the one who insisted on dragging him all the way here because of his usefulness to the cause.”

“Touché.” In general terms, Baekhyun owned three types of clothes - the ones that made him look hot, the ones that made him be deadly and the ones he could tear and sweat and stain while he trained. He went for those, because he wasn’t going out, and stole a glance at his reflection in the inner side of the closet door before taking off the sweaty shirt he had worn last night. He still had traces of black kohl around his eyes. He had showered after coming back, but had forgotten about the make-up. “He’s angry at me.”

“Chanyeol? He’s the one who’s been up early and punching stuff at the training room. What did you do to him this time?”

Jongdae was sitting on his bed, perfectly unfazed by the fact that Baekhyun was changing clothes in front of him. Not that Baekhyun was surprised, or that he cared at all about nudity, but he still had expected for the other man to show a bit of decorum and proceed to excuse himself out. “He’s… dedicated with his training, huh? And I didn’t do a thing to him. Nothing out of the ordinary, at least. He was being clever, and despite his fashion choices he’s kind of hot, so I just decided to go on with it and asked him for sex.”

Jongdae actually made himself comfortable on Baekhyun’s bed and snorted while the other man dressed. “Come on, the boy has all the right in the world to be angry. You flirt with him and use him and the same night he discovers you have done all that to avenge your fallen boyfriend you offer your dick as compensation? I don’t know why he hasn’t punched you in the face yet.”

“I was just offering a casual thing, not my hand in marriage. It’s not like me having a Destined person matters for that, right? I was looking to have fun, that’s all, and it felt obvious that he wanted me.” He had told Chanyeol as much the night before -  _ I thought you wanted me.  _ But the boy had actually said no. Looked deadly serious while he did, too. As cold as he was a different person. “You’re judging me. I can tell.”

“That boy’s not to blame for the things the Obelisk has done.”

“I know that.” Once he had finished dressing, Baekhyun checked himself in the mirror one last time, trying to tame his hair with his fingers. He looked decent enough to go downstairs, he guessed, and face another day with his head held high. “Am I such a bad person?”

Jongdae shrugged. “Selfish.”

“That’s nothing new.”

Thankfully, Jongdae stood up and followed when he saw Baekhyun walking towards the door. “You’re going training?”

“I guess. What else is there to do? We have to wait until Kim Jongin decides to come back to us. I’d better be ready to rock when that happens.”

He should eat, he supposed, but he wasn’t hungry. Sitting in front of a generous breakfast felt strange after everything that had happened last night. Kim Jongin and his Dreamer sister. The message she had sent to him - the  _ we are not needed. They are eliminating us. _ It reminded Baekhyun of the moment he had reached the top of the silver tower, years ago, running through the doors to only find beeping computers and discarded medical equipment.

As the years went by, he had grown stronger against both heavy blows and cutting words, but being lied to still stung.

Jongdae left, cheerfully announcing that he had been tasked with grocery shopping, so Baekhyun was by himself again when he descended to the basement floor. He paused for a moment, considering his options, and stopped by the indoors gym door before shaking his head and continuing towards the shooting room. He heard the blast shot, however, at the same moment the automatic doors slid open, and stood at the threshold, eyes narrowing and muscles tense.

He breathed in slowly, forcing himself to relax - he had been told that Chanyeol was training, so he should had expected him somewhere around that floor. The boy was so concentrated that he didn’t notice him, not even when Baekhyun walked into the room and leaned against the wall to look, door closing soundlessly behind him.

He remembered Chanyeol firing blasters at that same room before: he’d had errors in posture, errors in the way he aimed and fired and gripped his gun, but he had done it pretty decently for a newbie. And there he was, not even that long after, finger on the trigger and grip not shaking even a bit as he pointed the weapon at the target and fired.

_ Don’t hold your gun like it’s going to come flying out of your hand. You don’t need strength: be gentle and it’ll obey you. _

Big blasters had never been Baekhyun’s weapon of choice: they were too big, they had a noticeable recoil; there were other types of firearms that could make him faster and more efficient. And he wouldn’t have thought that a nerdy kid like Park Chanyeol could make fast progress with a weapon like that, but it seemed like he had once more underestimated him, because he hit bull’s eye one, two,  _ three times. _

Baekhyun’s vision zoomed itself on a lonely drip of sweat sliding down from Chanyeol’s nape to the skin under his sweater. He bit his lip, then shook his head.

He was going to get caught anyway, so he leaned forwards and whistled.

“I see you’ve been practicing. Don’t be too hard on yourself, huh?”

At the opposite side of the room, Chanyeol  _ flinched. _ He could be becoming good at shooting, but he still needed training on awareness. Baekhyun could have told him, he supposed, but the boy had turned around, and he had pretty lips, and they were pressed in a thin, pale line as he tensed all over and regarded Baekhyun with the eyes of an angry, cornered animal.

“What are you doing here?” he asked, and the other boy shrugged, still leaning against the wall, still grinning.

“Just watching for a bit. You’ve gotten better. No wonder you did so good by yourself during yesterday’s little adventure.”

Chanyeol scoffed, turning his back to him and raising the weapon again. The shot was good once more, not a perfect bull’s eye, but something that came pretty close. The poor dummies he had been using were a mess already, anyway, burn and blackened where all the previous shots had landed. “Told you, it’s not that different from my game.”

“So M.O.N.S.T.E.R, huh?” Chanyeol wasn’t looking at him so he walked closer. He didn’t want to risk it and invade the kid’s personal space. He has thought he was good at predicting what he would do, but he had hidden information and teased and Chanyeol had gotten all angry.  _ You need me _ , he had said.  _ You. Need. Me _ . And Baekhyun was mad at himself because he knew it was true.

“Yeah.”

“Is it really so similar to the real life thing?”

“Kind of.”

“Hm. I wonder. Do you think you would be able to hit a moving human target?”

“I don’t know. I’ve never tried.”

Chanyeol wasn’t looking at him yet, and he could see it all clearly - the creases around his eyes, his frown. It was so strange of him to ignore Baekhyun, to avoid his gaze without even trying to steal a glance out of the corner of his eye. He was upset, really upset - within reason.

“Hey, Zero boy, I’ve got an idea.”

“What now?”

“Let’s play a game.”

Chanyeol had been about to shoot. To Baekhyun’s amusement, the blast of energy went directly to the wall. The kid glared at him too, looking anything but happy with the idea, and Baekhyun had to laugh.

“Listen to me. In case I didn’t made it clear enough yesterday night, the last thing I need is you and your games, whatever they are.”

“No,  _ you _ listen to me.” Baekhyun lowered his voice, smiling. “You were more than clear yesterday night, yeah. I need you.” he paused, trapping the ring around his lip between his teeth. “And you don’t want me. It’s okay if you don’t. I know more than enough about basic consent.”

“Then what is this about?” Chanyeol looked at him, still frowning, while Baekhyun typed on the shooting area touchscreen to change the burnt dummies for a new one.

“I am the kind of man who loves keeping secrets, Zero boy, it’s nothing really personal. What I didn’t tell you, I thought you didn’t need to know. But then, I wouldn’t have survived until now if I was unable to admit that I’m not perfect, right? And I might have… underestimated some sides of you, if you get what I mean.”

Chanyeol was staring at him like he had done in the alley the night before. With all that fury that he kept bottled down; the one that Baekhyun had wanted out and that had the potential of turning soft Chanyeol into something lethal. “Obviously.” The new dummy was already in shoot range. Baekhyun had programmed it to move from left to right and Chanyeol pursed his lips as he aimed. His expression didn’t even change when he missed. There was raw determination in the way he held the gun, a subdued strength in how he tried.

Of course the kid was fucking good. A fast learner and a natural. So full of potential.

“Well then, indulge me for a while. This is the game I want to play: a question round. I might be secretive, but I’m honest, so let’s try to add some risk factor. You ask me something and I tell you the truth, on the condition that I get to ask later and you’re honest. No matter how personal. No matter how rude. If one refuses to answer, the game’s over, but lies are not allowed.”

Baekhyun had expected doubts, or for Chanyeol to outwardly reject him, but the boy just nodded, still not looking at him. “Only if I get to start.”

“Just that? Okay.”

Swiftly, Chanyeol raised his blaster. He aimed and shot and hit the dummy in the shoulder. Baekhyun heard him curse. His eyes caught the subtle way he moved, adjusting his position.

“Who were you before?”

As Baekhyun had expected -  _ naive _ . He smirked. “Just your regular kid. High school student. A pretty decent one and all. I had better grades than you would expect.” Chanyeol was looking at him, at least, out of the corner of his eye, and he made sure to lock gazes. “My turn now.”

“Hey, wait, that’s all you get to answer? That your marks were good?”

“It was a reply to what you asked. I told you I don’t like sharing my secrets if I can avoid it, Zero. Learn to make better questions.” Chanyeol pressed his lips once more, and Baekhyun would have laughed if he hadn’t been trying to actually make amends. Playing push and pull with the kid was fun, but he didn’t want him to snap. “I’ll be nice to you since you didn’t know the rules, so here it is. Why did you start to Break? The real reason.”

“I played M.O.N.S.T.E.R and I was angry, and I  _ knew I could. _ ” Chanyeol shot again, but the energy blast travelled too low. “That game, it allows you to break things without it having any impact on the real world. I wanted destruction, but I also wanted consequence, to some extent, and Breaking allowed that. So I Broke. It always feels like fighting a battle in savage mode. Ten times more hardcore than how regular M.O.N.S.T.E.R games go, and you know how those are.”

“I don’t, in fact. I have never played.”

That time, Chanyeol did turn to look at him, lips parted. He had a  _ really _ pretty mouth, he did. “You have never played? Where have you been, hiding under a  _ rock _ ?”

“Running away from the law and all. I didn’t have extra time to expend it in something like that. And, by the way, you just wasted a perfectly good question. So it’s my time again: were you so angry because of your Dreamlessness? Is that the reason you still are?”

Before answering, Chanyeol turned his gaze back into his shooting booth. He aimed and tried, hit the moving dummy in the chest and then in the neck. It looked strangely effortless, like he had achieved it without failing before. Baekhyun was better at firing a gun, but he had never been such a fast learner.

“Zero?”

“Yes. Yes and no. I don’t-- Having a predetermined Destiny never felt completely right, and still everything in my life was ruled by it. Or by the lack of it. I didn’t like that.”

“The fact that you didn’t have a Destiny?”

“No. The fact that I needed one to be someone.” Chanyeol shot once more. That time, he hit the dummy right in the head. He lowered the blaster. “You made two questions in a row, so that means two for me. You  _ do _ believe in Fate? I don’t-- From all of the people in this city, I didn’t think you would.”

“Why? Because I’m the kind of guy who loves making things explode? The means I use don’t have anything to do with what I think about this matter. So yeah, to answer your question I do believe in Destiny. And I take that surprises you.”

Chanyeol lowered his head for a moment, soft in thoughtfulness. “I just never took you for one of those fervent Dream believers.”

There were no gods in the Dome, but some people prayed to Destiny, and to the Dreamers that the Obelisk claimed to hide away in the safety of a tower. To Baekhyun, Fate felt more like a force of nature, the kind of current that pulled you down and turned you over. Dreamers were not some sort of Divinities - they were just children at the eye of the storm. He wasn’t the type to worship it, but Destiny was there and it was unavoidable. Or it should be.

He sided with Destiny and, in return, it was also on his side. It was the sensible choice - it was hope.

“I wouldn’t risk it being a non believer, but it  _ does _ suit you somehow. Rebellious kid, aren’t you?”

Chanyeol stared at him directly in the eye, brows raised, and Baekhyun felt the heat of it, the intensity. When they had first met, he had thought the kid was too soft not to be submissive, but Chanyeol actually rose against what he didn’t like. He did not do it like Baekhyun himself, with loud noise and fast shots and blood burning in his veins - he boiled low instead, like lava underground. Everything seemed calm within him, until the outer layer broke and fire destroyed everything in its wake.

That made Chanyeol more useful that what he had originally thought. It also turned him into someone dangerous. A beast in repose, still not aware of what he could become.

And still a soft, summer child. Baekhyun should definitely enjoy that, for all the time it lasted.

“I just don’t understand how you can consider that not believing in Destiny is  _ risking it _ . Risking it how?”

Baekhyun shrugged, sucking on his lip ring. “Is that the second question I owed you in our little game?”

Chanyeol didn’t break the visual contact. “Yeah.”

“Ah, well. Some things are bound to happen. I only ride the wave. Everything will go well as long as I don’t fall.”

“It doesn’t sound convincing.”

“Why not?” Baekhyun lowered his head, slowly, playing with the controls of the shooting booth terminal. Those settings were too easy for Chanyeol, it seemed; the boy needed something a bit more challenging. “Think you can hit that?” he purred when the half burnt dummy started moving faster.

“I can try.” Chanyeol stood still for a moment, eyes evaluating the cadence and the speed, muscles flexing as he rose his arm. “Why not? That’s another question,” he commented, and he was learning how to play. “But if you must know, that idea of Destiny you have… it has holes.”

“Holes?”

“Logical flaws. A big one that I can think of.” He shot and missed, finger still on the trigger. “You say Destiny is unavoidable. That whatever should be, will be. But you had a Destined person, and I had too, and both are dead. How do you explain that? How do you explain the Dreamers being gone and the Obelisk lying to people? Was that all meant to happen as well?”

Baekhyun drummed on the terminal with his fingers. He was trying his best to be all nice, but he had to fight his need to scoff. “What? So we have reached the part where we get all personal? It’s okay for me to start asking uncomfortable questions about your sex life now?”

“It’s not the same thing.”

“I agree. Personal beliefs are in a whole different level of private.”

“So you’re not answering?”

“I am.” He was making amends after all. Playing games wouldn’t be fun if he was the one running away with his tail between his legs. So he considered the answer as he leaned against the wall to observe Chanyeol miss and try again and learn. We wondered if he would have caught so many little details, had his eyes been human still. “There  _ is _ a Destiny. And it always gets back in course, no matter what we do. People like the Obelisk can try to change it but… you know, doing that is like swimming against the current - you can hold on for a while, but you can’t resist the pull of the water forever. So yeah, whatever they want to achieve, our friends in the silver tower are doing everything in their power to turn Destiny into a different thing, and perhaps they’ll be able, for a while, and maybe there’ll be casualties, like Yixing was, but everything will get back in course eventually. And here I am, Zero boy, doing my best to speed up the process. They fucked me up, but they will be fucked. Tenfold.”

As the good sceptic he was, Chanyeol didn’t look too impressed. “So are you supposed to be the good guy here?”

“Destiny’s on my side, at least. As it is on yours.”

The boy shoot again, expression unreadable, and Baekhyun chuckled, tilting his head up and blowing to try to remove the dark strands of head from his eyes. “It’s my turn to ask now, right?” he said, lips curving up higher when Chanyeol looked at him. “Be honest, Zero boy. What do you think about me?”

“ _ You. _ ”

“You can elaborate, you know. I won’t get mad.”

That time, Chanyeol shot his blaster and got a perfect bull’s eye.  _ Oh, well, that’s sexy.  _ “You’re a bastard. Clever but reckless and a selfish son of a bitch.”

He was being offensive, and he was doing it on purpose. Baekhyun should have put him in his place, perhaps, but the boy still knew he was necessary  _ and  _ he was right, so Baekhyun just laughed. Out loud and obnoxiously, covering his mouth with his fingers and shattering every remnant of silence as if the air in the shooting room had been made of colored glass.

“You are still in time to ask what I think about you. In case you are interested.”

“Not at all.” Chanyeol shrugged, but Baekhyun could feel the edge under the surface. “I don’t need another remark of how much you want into my pants.”

“Come on. I  _ was _ being good.”

“it’s my time to ask, and that’s not what I want to know. In case you feel generous to share, you can enlighten me for free.” He didn’t wait for an answer, however, before turning around and placing the blaster in its socket on the wall. “I asked you before and you avoided the question. So I’ll go straight to the point this time: before all this, you had a Destiny, right? What kind of life was it? You got white letters from the Obelisk. How… How many?”

“That’s more than one question.”

“Then ask more than once in return.”

Baekhyun considered it. There was steel in Chanyeol’s eyes, like when he Broke, like when he trained, or when he had told him that there was no true Destiny for him inside the Dome. Baekhyun swallowed, smiled. He had Chanyeol’s full attention, his complete focus, and he was learning that he enjoyed the feeling. “Very well,” he said. “Let me see. When I was fifteen or so I used to have a scholarship to go paint landscapes.”

Chanyeol blinked, bewildered. “What?”

“You know, like on canvas.”

“What in the world are you talking about?” Chanyeol looked much younger when confused, eyes wide and expression open, but it didn’t take long for the surprise to fade into something harder. “I thought you said we weren’t allowed to lie.”

“Ah, but I’m not. Child Byun Baekhyun received a white letter recommending him for art school. Teenage Baekhyun got another one sending him into an scholarship program. That’s what you wanted to know, isn’t it?”

Chanyeol was still looking at him like he expected him to either tell him he was stupid or directly burst out laughing. “You painted.” He blinked. Baekhyun nodded. “You had a scholarship because you painted. An art scholarship.  _ You. _ ”

“I don’t do that anymore, though, so if you were looking for someone to design a pretty little flower so you can tattoo it on your ass or something… Sorry, but my commissions are permanently closed.” Chanyeol was still looking at him, jaw literally dropped. It was a good thing that Baekhyun cared too little about his past to be offended by such a sheer display of incredulity. “Hey, I am a complex human being, Zero. I can have other hobbies besides guns, destruction and doing my very best to annoy you.”

“I don’t doubt that,” mused Chanyeol, sounding very doubtful.

“It was an easy life, since you’re going to ask. You know me: I’m a pretty social person, so I was popular enough. I had friends, good grades, a lovely family and a weirdo of a neighbor who I ended up dating. And who, coincidentally, was a Dreamer.”

It all seemed so far away. Yixing had been such a wonderful, talented kid. The only one who had looked at Baekhyun in the eye and had told him that he gloated too much when he talked about his white Obelisk letters. What an achievement had it been, to appear in the Dream much before than the other kids in his class. He had been delighted.

“How did you know that he was your Destined person?”

“He saw us in the Dream. He told me. We tried to escape, of course, but we got caught. As expected, considering how careless we were. They were on us: we should have known when I started receiving fake letters. But you see, no point dwelling on it now, right? Didn’t I do everything I could?”

“You got into the tower.”

Ah, yeah, the fucking tower, with all those security measures and its trained guards, and a promised reward at the top that had never been there in the first place. What a failure that had been. How heartbreaking. That was the first time he had wanted to burn the city. Burn them all.

Baekhyun’s lips curved upward - an impulse, automatic. “You impressed? That is a serious question, in case you’re wondering.”

“So do you want me to say it?”

“I’ve always loved praise.”

“What I think is, well... You got me wondering on a daily basis if you aspire to be some sort of kamikaze or if you’re just very reckless.”

Baekhyun shrugged, lazy grin still on his mouth. “I just like it heavy.”

Chanyeol made an undefined noise, but before Baekhyun could tease him about it - or remind himself not to tease him much, because Chanyeol was collaborative again and, surprisingly, he was quite decent at conversation - the boy tore his gaze away from him, facing the still moving dummy, a sad little figure, covered in holes and burned and still swaying from side to side.

“You know, Baekhyun,” he said. He was the only person he knew who still used his real name. He didn’t know where the kid had gotten the habit from and he should have probably been annoyed at him because of it, but that forgotten little word sounded lovely enough in Chanyeol’s lips. “I’ve been thinking and… Where do the Obelisk get their data from?”

“Data?”

“The one that they write down in the letters. I guess it’s not coming from the Dreamers, but I don’t think they could possibly invent a different fate for every single person living here. There’s millions of us. It wouldn’t be practical, logically speaking.”

“Maybe they use some random program. Don’t they like, have databases for everything?”

Chanyeol’s eyebrows disappeared behind his faded red hair, and the corners of Baekhyun’s lips twitched. What he had said  _ made _ sense - if Breaking was popular it was because their beloved government loved to write everything down in their private network. Even he knew that much; it felt logical.

“Of course storing that data and sending it to people would be computerized, but that doesn’t answer my question. They could be keeping everything they’ve sent to every person in a database for information or tracking purposes, but if that data doesn’t come from the Dream, where do they get it from?” Baekhyun parted his lips to speak.  _ That isn’t important, _ he wanted to say.  _ They hurt us by doing this. They lie.  _ Chanyeol, however, spoke before, staring right at him with big, clear eyes. “It’s not random data, Baekhyun. When they sent you all those things about… art or whatever it was, as a kid… It wasn’t done by chance. You already liked painting, right?”

“Well, I-- Yeah.” Baekhyun blinked. Of course he had. “Even before I got that letter, yes. But maybe some Dreamers were still alive, or--” He stopped before making a further fool of himself - the silver tower had already been empty when he had walked inside. The message from Jongin’s sister was also old _. We are not needed, they are eliminating us.  _ “What we are being given is not Destiny. But it  _ is _ accurate.”

“At least it appears to be to some extent.” Chanyeol smiled at him, perhaps for the first time ever, and it was the same lopsided grin Baekhyun had seen on his avatar’s face when he was at the M.O.N.S.T.E.R world, where he reigned supreme.  _ Clever kid, ain’t you?  _

“So if it’s not true Destiny, what  _ is _ the thing written on the letters everyone gets? And why does it still match? That’s a good question, actually.” Had Minseok or the others thought about that? Because he had overlooked it completely. His leader, for starters, was still naive enough to think that the Obelisk couldn’t have killed all the Dreamers. He wouldn’t have questioned the letters that weren’t obviously edited to fit the Obelisk’s interests. “But what does this all mean?”

“I don’t know.” Chanyeol sighed, hiding his hands in the pockets of his hoodie. “There’s only one thing I’m certain of.”

“Which is?”

“You shouldn’t hide stuff from me as often. It’s obvious that you need someone to be the brains in this whole rebel thing.”

Ah, Baekhyun should have been offended. That kid was just a newcomer, playing it big because he had a skill that has proven necessary. Baekhyun may had allies, but he was meant to call the shots because, at the end of the day, he knew that he worked alone. He was the one who had been after the Obelisk for years, and newbies shouldn’t be that rude… but still he couldn’t help laughing out loud, in a high, incredulous guffaw.

Talk about constructive criticism.

“Okay, okay, I’ll be good. Since you’re working so hard on earning my trust.”

Chanyeol was still angry, Baekhyun could tell. But the boy could be easy to read, and there was a flush at the tip of his ears when he heard the words. He was interesting, that kid. Wronging him could either feel like kicking a puppy or like facing a cyclone head-on. Praising him... Well, he’d like to know where that could go.

“Baekhyun…” There it was. His name again.

“You know what? We make a decent team, you and I.” At that, Chanyeol raised his eyebrows, directing a short glance at the half-burnt dummy and the blaster that he had already turned off. Baekhyun did too, but for whole different reasons - if he had to choose, he much more preferred to have Park Chanyeol on his side than against him. “Believe me, I don’t say that stuff like that often.”

“I can see why.”

Baekhyun smiled at him, angelic. “You should teach me how to play that game of yours sometime. Just, you know, for science. I’d like to know how it feels, learning from a pro.”

“You mean M.O.N.S.T.E.R?”

“What else. If you can find it in your heart not to hate me anymore and all.”

Chanyeol observed him for a while, face unreadable. Then he just sighed. “Look, it’s not that I hate you, exactly. I just feel that you never--”

He was suddenly interrupted by Baekhyun’s comm beeping. There was a blinking light at the corner of his vision, a name written in red letters - Xiumin. “Ah, wait a second,” Baekhyun mused. Chanyeol made a face at him but he did, hands still on his pockets and eyes on Baekhyun as he accepted the message transmission between the comm around his wrist and the receptor in his eye and text started to appear in his field of vision. It was a short message, barely more than a couple of sentences. Instructions. “I take you finished gun training for now?”

Chanyeol was still looking at him. “Yeah.”

“Well, great. Because your friend Jongin sent a message. And we apparently have a date to meet with your friends. What we need now is to discuss how we are going to carry out the plan without being killed, or found out, or other minor incidents.”

The tension in Chanyeol’s shoulders dissipated, even though his lips trembled slightly when he smiled. “I think you should review your concept of what a minor incident is.”

Baekhyun grinned back at him. “You think so?”

\--

They had arranged a meeting in Jongin’s apartment. Not the secret one where he kept his computers and Breaking devices, but the regular one he owned in the Second Ward. Chanyeol was familiar with the place - a small but luxurious Obelisk-issued home, with white ceilings, carpeted floors and a huge screen on the living room wall. He had been there a thousand times, planning strategies with his team or just spending lazy afternoons with his friends. He had played M.O.N.S.T.E.R when Exodus Team was still a rookie and laughed when they won and got angry when they didn’t.

He had not expected to be back, after everything that had happened. He had tried to push the thought of a normal life away from his mind and focus on his training, on his shooting skills, on making his body stronger and faster. Even his challenges in the M.O.N.S.T.E.R arena had ceased being a game.

That visit wasn’t, either. The meeting with his friends wouldn’t be.

That was the reason why he couldn’t be in the open; why he had dressed in casual clothes and boarded the metro at rush hour, with none other than Baekhyun sitting beside him in a bright red sweater, face half covered by the hood and mannerisms too soft not to be a farce.

Chanyeol was still angry at him - or at least slightly upset. He knew that boy was good at playing games, and it was impossible to know what he was hiding in that head of his, but at least he had gone and talked to Chanyeol. He had disguised it at a challenge, and maybe it was for him, but Chanyeol was a good player when he knew which set of rules to follow - or break - and he had made Baekhyun be  _ honest. _

He had told him they made a great team. Chanyeol had his doubts about them being a team at all.

But then again, there they were, together and alone, waiting in Jongin’s tiny bedroom while his friend waited for Sehun and Junmyeon at the other side of the door.

Chanyeol hadn’t been much in Jongin’s room - it had always been a sacred place of sorts. He kept rock band posters there, along with a neat collection of both New and Old Era novels and a big  _ Ballet through the Ages  _ photobook.

“Does he like dancing, your friend?”

Baekhyun was looking down at the open book, almost thoughtfully. He was probably carrying three different kind of weapons under that sweater, but he looked strangely young in the afternoon light. The whole scene reminded Chanyeol of older memories, like those times he had brought someone to his own room as a teenager and had waited in silence as the other person looked through his things, trapped in a fleeting moment of silence, frail like glass.

He had always been the first to speak.

“Ah? Yeah, I guess so. He doesn’t talk that much about it.”

“I see.”

Chanyeol took a slow breath. He wasn’t at his own home, and he certainly hadn’t brought Baekhyun there to make out. The things he was looking at weren’t  _ his _ , and he had only spoken because Baekhyun had asked - softly - first.

_ I know Jongin likes dancing, but not why or how much,  _ he was about to say, biting his lips to keep the words confined to his throat. He didn’t want to give weapons to that boy. He looked friendly enough when he wanted, he could have a normal conversation when he felt like it, but still cared for himself only.  _ I don’t know what are his favorite plays, if he would have wanted to keep going to dance classes as a hobby, instead of focusing on games as he did. _

“He doesn’t look the part, you know.”

“Well, you don’t look the part of someone who’d spend time drawing landscapes either.”

“You offend me, Zero boy. I drew my comm wallpaper myself, back when I still did stuff like that. Remind me to show you sometime, huh?”

“Let me guess. Is there blood on it somewhere? The scattered entrails of your enemies?”

“Oh, baby boy, don’t be like that.” Baekhyun snorted, all low. He looked like he was about to burst out laughing, but he finally settled for smiling, like the cat who got the cream. He moved closer to the door, where Chanyeol still was, and patted his shoulder with something that suspiciously look like reassurance. “What’s gotten into you? You’re standing here all awkwardly.”

“I only--” Chanyeol sighed, shaking his head while Baekhyun blinked at him from below. “My friends.”

“Ah, but they’ll be happy to see you.”

“You think so?”

He couldn’t hear a thing from the other side, and he would have sworn the entry phone had rang what seemed like minutes ago. It was Jongin himself who had told Chanyeol and Baekhyun to hide (“in case someone unwanted comes, you can always leave through the window or something,” he had said, and that would have worked as an awesome backup plan hadn’t he lived in a seventh floor). Chanyeol hoped that no unwanted person came - that would made him feel even more like a stranger.

Baekhyun didn’t reply, just looked at him with metallic grey eyes, head slightly tilted and lip ring glistening, wet with saliva. Dark hair made his gaze seem both harder and softer at the same time. He was a foreign presence in a place that had been sanctuary, like that little odd detail in a dream that made you realize that your surroundings weren’t real.

“They’re here,” he whispered, and Chanyeol could hear it: steps at the door and voices raising in a familiar greeting - Junmyeon all calm and Sehun laughing. It was like always, exactly like it had ever been… except for the part where Chanyeol was missing.

_ Have you realized…? _

“Hey, Sehun, close the door.” Jongin said. There was a pause, a dull noise, a minute of interminable silence. Chanyeol held his breath until it was painful in his lungs. “Did you come alone as I told you?”

“Well, yeah.” It was Sehun who replied. He was close, so close. It sounded exactly the same as the last time Chanyeol had seen him. “But aren’t you going to offer us anything to drink? I left my job in a rush, you know?”

Chanyeol bit his lip. It was Junmyeon who spoke next. “What’s the matter, Jongin? Did something happen? Please don’t tell me you got into trouble of some kind.”

“I-- No, not really. I just have something important to tell you. Are you sure no one followed you?”

“And why would someone?” Junmyeon sounded suspicious, a bit nagging. He was probably still in his low-rank Obelisk uniform, hair neatly combed back. “I’m waiting. You know you can talk to me.”

“There’s someone who wanted to speak to you.”

That was his cue. That was it. Baekhyun looked at him, hand going up to his arm again. Chanyeol didn’t know who Dreamers felt, when they were lost in their reverie, but he was almost sure it all had to be like this. Hopeful and heartbreaking - the reality you couldn’t have,

“Hey, hey, turn for your grand entrance,” Baekhyun whispered. His voice was low, his smile a bit teasing. Baekhyun, who most possibly carried three guns under his sweater. “I was leaving the honor to you. Do you want me to be in charge of stealing the spotlight, too, or what?”

“No way.” That room was suffocating. It reminded him of a boy who had never walked in there, the same boy who had known he would always be Dreamless. He hadn’t liked it back then, hadn’t believed, but hadn’t done a thing about it. And Chanyeol missed the person he’d been, but he didn’t want him back anymore. So he turned around and faced the door, closed his hand around the handle as Baekhyun snorted again.

“Someone?” Junmyeon was asking.

Chanyeol took a deep breath. Then pushed the door.

It fell open silently, to Junmyeon is his tidy uniform and Sehun’s bored expression. Both of them were standing in the middle of Jongin’s tiny living room. Junmyeon was facing away and didn’t notice him.

Sehun did.

He stared at him, deadly pale. Chanyeol took a step back, but Baekhyun’s hands were on his waist, urging him forward. He stood still.

“Chanyeol?” Sehun muttered.

“Chanyeol? What about Chanyeol?” repeated Junmyeon. He turned around, frowning, like he was about to scold everyone. He saw him after, and froze in the spot. “By the Dream. I-- I thought you left the city already.”

The boy swallowed. “I never did. I didn’t want to go.”

Baekhyun’s hands left him and then he was at his side, grinning his best shit-eating smile. “They threw his sorry ass into a cell underground but the Obelisk aren’t known for being rational, so I took the liberty of helping him out. I’m Sigma, by the way.”

“The wanted terrorist?” Junmyeon asked, voice suddenly high-pitched. “As in… a criminal? What’s going on here?”

“Pleased to meet you, I guess? Your friend here tried to hook up with me. That’s why we know each other.”

“That’s not--” Chanyeol had opened his mouth to protest, but every word got stuck in his throat when he saw Sehun walking towards him. He looked all furious, frown drawn and lips pressed, and the boy thought that that was it.  _ He is going to hit he. He is going to call me an idiot and hit me. _

What actually happened was that his friend  _ hugged him  _ \- all tight, gripping the fabric of his sweater so, so hard that Chanyeol thought he was going to tear it apart. 

Sehun wasn’t the type to grip stuff. Sehun had always been too cool to hug anyone. “I thought you were dead,” he muttered. His voice sounded shaky. That was so weird. So strange, so-- “I thought you have been killed.”

When Chanyeol looked up, Junmyeon was smiling, eyes wide and face shocked but softening. “I am so glad. Praised be the Dream you’re alive.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this is it!! An emotive chapter of sorts after all the action!
> 
> I really hope you like it!!
> 
> Happy anniversaty to Codename again! This year has been quite a ride, so let's be together too for the next months until the story is finished.
> 
> Also please remember to say hi @ curiouscat if you have any question ( https://curiouscat.me/babyeol ), and also @ twitter ( https://twitter.com/babyeoI ) and @ the Tumblr acc I made for [mainly] fic purposes ( https://baby-yeol.tumblr.com/ ) It has an update status + FAQ page here ( https://baby-yeol.tumblr.com/updates ) so don't forget to check it if you want to know when the next updates will come!
> 
> Also please check the AFF cross-post ( https://www.asianfanfics.com/story/view/1161634/ ) to see the awesome cover that sunshyun @ twitter ( https://twitter.com/sunshyun ) made for the fic!! Thank you very much for all your hard work! ;u;
> 
> And with that said, please let me know what you think about this chapter and see you next month for the next update! :D


	10. Login 09

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welps, I am like two days late with this one, but I hope that the almost 20K of it compensate it somehow :D
> 
> This chapter has been really challenging and probably the one I like the most among all the ones I've written so far. So I leave you to it, I hope you enjoy! :D

**Login 09**

 

Baekhyun was good at many things, but being inconspicuous wasn’t one of them. He was wearing the Obelisk worker uniform Junmyeon had provided, the same grey set of high collared shirt and trousers Chanyeol had also received, but even as he was sitting there, inside of one empty, closed disposal container, he didn't look like one at all. There was something about his posture, in the set of his jaw and the edge of his smile, even in the dim gleam of Chanyeol’s flashlight, that would made anyone stare. 

Then, and of course, there was also the issue of the silver ring in his bottom lip. “Do you ever take that thing off?”

Baekhyun trapped the piercing between his lips, then he smiled. “The world’s a battleground. I need to keep myself safe, Zero boy.” If Chanyeol had found himself in the position to guess, he would have said that the little bastard was being serious. Or at least relatively so.

Not that it was easy to know what the was thinking on a regular basis.

“Do you really believe that most Obelisk office salarypeople go to work with a full collection of piercings on?” he still asked.

“Some of them would. The ones that have them. And besides, I’m not really worried - after all, I’m not the lamppost-tall guy with red hair, now am I?”

Chanyeol’s hand went to his own head, more involuntarily than not. “The color’s faded.”

“Yeah, like it being orange-pink makes much of a difference. Don’t worry much about it, though. They won’t look at us; they never do.”

With the smallest sigh, Baekhyun shifted positions on the floor, so his back was resting against the smooth metal section of the disposal container. His movements were almost too silent, like the boy himself was made of pollution smoke. His body was still, one hand on his lap, muscles relaxed, but his eyes were always shifting, from Chanyeol’s face to the lid over their heads, and to the floor under their feet.

“Nervous?” Chanyeol asked, because  _ he  _ was. Baekhyun looked at him, eyebrows raised.

“Not nervous. Excited,” he whispered. “I am close. Closer to what I’m looking for.”

“Well, we still don’t know that. We need to get into the core of this place without the Obelisk finding out. And I need to do my job and Break.”

“Oh, and can’t you?” Baekhyun grinned, and Chanyeol was almost offended.

“Of course I can.”  _ Or so I hope. _

“Then we  _ are _ closer. I trust you on this one. I’m here to make sure you can connect to the Network in peace. So get mentally prepared for your duties, I’ll do the rest.”

Chanyeol wasn’t carrying weapons - none of them were, with the exception of Baekhyun’s electroshocking lip ring - but he could feel the weight of the portable IVR visor he had hidden under his white lab coat. He had gotten that from Kyungsoo, just the day before.

_ ‘It’s not as potent as the ones you probably own, but it’ll keep you stable,’  _ he had told him.  _ ‘You won’t have that much time of optimal use, however, so if you want to risk your life, be fast about it.’ _

He didn’t have any problem about being fast. He knew being the first one to reach his objectives had always been the best form of damage control. And still, Breaking into a potentially dangerous government database wasn’t the issue - walking unarmed into one of their facilities felt more like it.

Chanyeol couldn’t believe that he had actually been the one to suggest the idea. He had expected Baekhyun to be the one to come up with the most-possibly-suicidal courses of action. But then, it also seemed clear that Chanyeol was much better than Baekhyun at figuring out how to made plans successful instead of just plain dangerous.

“Hey, you do look pale,” Baekhyun commented them, tone slightly amused but with no bite underneath. Chanyeol forgot sometimes that his eyes were equipped with a night vision module, that he could see him even in the dark. “Any deep fear you want to share while we’re all alone?”

“The last time I was in this building I ended up in an interrogation room. That, and we gave the key of our success in this operation to Sehun. My friend Sehun. You don’t know what we have done.”

Baekhyun laughed, short and low and slightly husky, covering his lips with his fingers. “I have to admit that he’s the hottest garbageman I’ve ever seen, but he can’t be that bad if he was in your M.O.N.S.T.E.R team. We’re trusting him on this, Zero, I’m just taking for granted that he won’t accidentally put this container inside of the trash press or something.”

Chanyeol tried not to frown. “He’s not  _ that _ bad,” he stated. “He’s my best friend,” he added later, even though he knew Baekhyun was aware. After all, and no matter how much he complained, the container idea had been  _ Chanyeol’s _ , and Sehun had been sensible enough to be scandalized.

 

_ “So you mean you want our help to get into Junmyeon’s office building. And that you want to do it using the trash disposal system,” he had told Chanyeol at Jongin’s house, looking at him like he was honestly, genuinely wrong in the head. “So that’s why you called us for? So we can get you access into a  _ trashcan? _ ” _

_ “I--” _

_ “He wanted to see you, also,” Baekhyun replied. “But it’s dangerous for him to. Dangerous for all of us, in fact, to hold this meeting. You should help us, you know, if you want to keep him safe.” _

_ Chanyeol had turned towards Baekhyun, about to tell him he had no right to ask that, not from his friends, not from anyone, until he realized he had come there for the exact same reason. Jongin had just summarized what had been going on, and he had explained what they needed because there was no other possible way he could think of for connecting directly into an Obelisk database - at least not without putting up an open fight. _

_ “The whole city has an automatic trash disposal mechanism. Disposal containers travel underground from one building to another, to collect waste. They enter the buildings empty and leave them full. I don’t think they have a ID chip reader implemented nowhere on that circuit,” he said. “What we need… What we need is access to one of those empty containers, and data for a couple of employees in Junmyeon’s department so we can install that in our IDs.” _

_ After his initial relief, Junmyeon had been turning more and more, suspicious, more and more obviously upset. “Chanyeol, I’m glad you’re okay, but you’re playing a very dangerous game here. What you intend to do, that’s high treason against the Dream.” _

_ “And what could they do to him if he gets caught? Force him into the army and send him out of town?” Baekhyun replied, with soft words and a sharp smile.  _

_ “You are a wanted terrorist. You’re already wanted for treason, and by the Dream, for murder.” _

_ “Yeah, the same way they’ll also put a price on Chanyeol’s head if he stays alive long enough for the Obelisk to consider him a threat. What will they write in his record, then? That he stole, that he tortured, that he killed? Oh, please, stay tuned for updates.” Baekhyun was still grinning when Junmyeon tore his gaze away, looking like a very vicious cat who had finally gotten the cream. Chanyeol found himself grabbing him by the shoulder, frowning at Baekhyun when the boy looked up at him. _

_ “This isn’t about me - it’s about them. I’m already in deep shit, we all know that, but helping us could get my friends in serious trouble.” _

_ “And you don’t want that, but you still came. What a good kid, Zero.” _

_ Chanyeol didn’t know if Baekhyun was mocking him or not, but at least he had stopped smiling. “I just want to give them the choice.” _

_ “So at least someone does, huh? You're such a gentleman.” Whatever answer Baekhyun had been expecting, he just pressed his lips and held his gaze when Chanyeol nodded. He finally sighed, all theatrical, before giving him one of his nice boy smiles. “Okay, go on. I’m just following your plan here.” _

_ It had sounded like a challenge, and Chanyeol had let him go before turning towards his friends and bowing his head. “I’m not asking you to join me in this. I don’t want you two to risk your necks without being convinced. I’m only… begging of you to lend us any help that you can spare.” _

_ Baekhyun had looked rather sceptical in their way home, even if he had been all smiles. Chanyeol had found himself being extremely satisfied when Sehun had contacted them through Jongin a couple of days later to meet up with Chanyeol and discuss an infiltration plan. That was the first time Chanyeol had went to look for Baekhyun at breakfast hours, and had relished the pleasure of having the boy look at him with big, grey eyes in the middle of a bite from a cereal bar. _

_ “Ah, so we don’t have to look for a B plan, then,” he said, once he had schooled his expression into amusement. Chanyeol wasn’t the smug one, usually, but he was feeling the appeal of it that morning. _

_ “Those guys are  _ my _ team, you know? Of course they wouldn’t let me go by myself.” _   
  
  


Or, at least they wouldn’t let him go completely unprepared, because, of course, the only two waiting inside the empty disposal container were Chanyeol himself and Baekhyun. They were equipped, however, and they were ready. They could walk behind enemy lines without them immediately noticing, and that was much more that what he could have hoped for.

Most victories lied in the strategies, and at least they had one.

“For  _ not being that bad,  _ your friend surely is taking a lot of time to get this all going,” Baekhyun commented. He kept looking around, fingers flexing and unflexing on his lap, a soft, almost imperceptible reflex. “Anytime now, Codename OhSniper.”

An annoyed voice cracked through Chanyeol’s tiny earpiece.  _ “It’s Codename Leo.” _

“Ah, look at that timing. OhLeo, then.”

“You’re here?” Chanyeol asked. “When did you establish the audio connection? We didn’t hear you initiate.”

_ “I was on a couple of minutes ago, but I didn’t want to interrupt you when you two were in the middle of talking about how hot I was. Sorry, Ace.” _

“Zero,” Chanyeol muttered. Sehun had the useful capacity of sounding very neutral about everything when he spoke, as if anything you told him was either too dull or too offensive for him to voice a proper reaction. At times like those, that skill made him wonder why they were friends in the first place - but ah, despite himself he had missed hearing him being an asshole.

“Hah, aren’t you full of yourself.” At the other side of the container, Baekhyun laughed out loud, voice echoing in the metal walls. Chanyeol could hear the smile in his voice, more than he could see it. He had not reason to be, but felt slightly annoyed by it, like there was a silver thorn on his side, digging under the skin.

_ “Don’t I have reason to be?” _

“With that attitude, anyone would think the little Obelisk Destiny lottery sent you to work as a cover magazine model and not as the trash boy.”

Chanyeol groaned. “He can be rather trashy.” When he looked up, he found Baekhyun staring at him, too smiley for his own good. “As far as I know, he keeps bragging about how the most expensive Fifth Ward discos keep letting him walk in for free.”

“But Zero, that’s a useful ability. They let me in for free, too. I know the bouncers.”

Chanyeol remembered the guy guarding the door of Dark Light quite well, yeah. That oaf called Bonecrusher, who was half a head taller than him and twice as wide.

_ “It’s useful when you want to be discreet.” _

“It’s useful when you want to walk in unnoticed.”

“Sadly for you two, we are trying to get inside a government office, not in a club on a Saturday night, so if you would just focus?”

He could almost see Sehun smirk at the other side of the line. “ _ Random talk is the spirit of team operations. And anyway, no one should be able to hear you down there. The whole process is automatized so actual human beings should only go to the waste disposal sector when repairs are needed. That’s how it goes for C security level buildings, at least.” _

_ “ _ So now what? We keep waiting?”

_ “Yeah, until the afternoon break starts. Which should be around now, if I’m not mistaken.” _

Baekhyun tapped his foot against the metal wall of the container box. “So you’re letting us out?”

_ “The program should. In about three, two…” _

The box moved before he had finished counting, tilting towards one side so strongly that Chanyeol felt himself fall before he could reposition himself to endure the impact. The wall at their right opened silently, making them slide towards a patch of grey, concrete floor. Chanyeol forced himself to keep his eyes open, to move so he could at least roll on the ground, but he wasn’t fast enough - he couldn’t be - and he huffed as his body collided against something hard and warm. He blinked, tried to catch his breath.

“Way to go,” whispered Baekhyun underneath him. One of his legs was between Chanyeol’s, knee against his inner thigh. “Reflexes, baby boy.”

“You’re okay,” Chanyeol replied. He had meant to ask, but it didn’t sound like a question.

“Yeah. And you’re blushing.” The boy observed, poking him in the forehead with his index finger. He wasn’t wearing gloves. He didn’t keep weapons under his clothes that time. He didn’t look at him for more than a second. “Eh, hey, Codename OhLeo, your trash container tried to assassinate us!”

_ “I think I mentioned it isn’t made to carry people.” _

“Whatever. I think I’ll live.”

Chanyeol, still sitting on the floor, looked around as Baekhyun stood up and made a show of removing invisible traces of dust from his Obelisk uniform. They were in what looked like a big, subterranean warehouse, full to the brim with square, silver containers. They were everywhere, polished and aseptic boxes stacked in metallic structures that looked like giant shelves, hanging from magnetic arms from the ceiling and coming in and out of the place in an enormous conveyor belt.

“This looks… clean,” he commented. Much more cleaner than he had expected a trash room to be.

_ “We pride in optimizing our disposal cycle, thank you,”   _ replied Sehun, sounding eerily similar to one of the robotic voices who always praised the recycling system on their comm screen adds, kindly reminding them to dispose of organic waste  _ only on Monday and Thursday nights. _ Chanyeol had always been the one to forget and to go illegally throw his own trash at 3 am on a Friday night, as all of his neighbours were sleeping. He supposed Sehun would have been scandalized at that, once upon a time.  _ “Now listen to me. One out of ten containers is only kept on the belt for emergency reasons. They go in and out empty, then travel to the disposal central in Eleventh instead of going to the presses and incinerators. That’s how you got in and that’s how you get out. The machine that loads the trash into the containers should be somewhere at the north of the room. Check it when you want to leave, and once you see one of the boxes is empty, jump into it before the lid closes. Hide and wait until that moment, there’s no other way out I can provide without risking my ass a bit too much. Got it?” _

Baekhyun started walking north, hands in the pockets of his own lab coat. When Chanyeol reached him, he had already stopped in front of a big metal structure that hissed and hummed like a sleeping beast. There was a long, wet noise as they stood there watching, and the whole machine seemed to exhale a tired breath. The metal gate on one of its sides opened a couple of seconds after, releasing a full, silver container on the conveyor belt. The air filled with a foul smell so unpleasant that Chanyeol had to cover his nose.

“Lovely,” whispered Baekhyun. “What’s in there?”

_ “Toilet disposal. Organic,”  _ replied Sehun, as casually as if he was talking about the weather prospect inside of the Dome.

“Really lovely,” Baekhyun repeated, wrinkling his nose. Behind him, Chanyeol groaned.

“Why did you have to ask?”

“Because it’s good to be well informed, Zero boy.”

“Even about literal shit?”

“Especially when it is about shit.”

Chanyeol decided that he didn’t have any more time for that. “Listen to me, Leo. Can you just please report on the situation? Is everyone in position?”

_ “Both Chen and Kai are in position, yes, and awaiting my signal. Once I’ve told them to start, Chen will wait for ten minutes and create a loop on the IT floor area, then unlock the door at corridor 12. Kai will Break into the database barriers five minutes after that. You have mind the time once you leave the background area - you’ll have around thirty minutes to reach the IT floor, Break, get the data and leave. Maybe even less. Overstay your welcome and the system  _ will _ notice you. And if they notice you both there… good luck escaping.” _

“Wow, thank you for the comfort,” Chanyeol groaned. “Being reminded of my very possible and imminent capture it’s always the best prep speech.”

“Oh, come on, don’t be like that, I’ll protect you,” Baekhyun said, all too cheerily, and Chanyeol wondered if it was still possible for him to get into another clean container and leave before it was too late for his integrity. “Isn’t that my role today, keeping you safe? You’re just not meant to be captured today.”

“That makes me much calmer, yeah. Having you as a bodyguard of all people.” And it did, in a sense, even if he was trying his best to be Very Sarcastic. Baekhyun had walked into the silver tower itself and was still alive - and considerably annoying.

“Do you hear that, Codename OhLeo? What kind of person doesn’t trust his partner in crime?”

“One who has been played by you.”

“Oh, but when have I failed to keep you safe. You’re still pretty much alive, no?”

_ “Bah, don’t mind Chanyeol. He’s been getting grumpy since childhood, every time he has to use his brain for something serious.” _

“Like making you win the official M.O.N.S.T.E.R  tournament?”

“Hey.” Baekhyun raised his eyebrows at him, the corner of his lips twisting upwards. “Don’t be mad. We have to be out of this basement before afternoon break ends. You’re wasting time.”

“ _I_ am.”

_ “Sigma’s right. Come on, get going, you two.” _

The last thing -  _ the last thing -  _ he needed was his best friend to prove how shitty he was by making a pact to annoy him with Baekhyun of all people. There was no point in arguing, however, not when Baekhyun was a known charmer and Sehun loved himself a bit too much to be invulnerable, so he just sighed and led the way towards the big metallic doors of the complex.

He found an empty corridor at the other side - white walls, white ceiling, white floor, white lights. Baekhyun walked into it, confidently, tilting his head and clicking his tongue. “We should be close to the cell compendium - where I met you for the second time, remember? But now we are at the other side of the security walls.” He remained quiet for a second, then he added. “I’ve never been this far in, not in this specific place. There’s limits to what our Chen can do.”

He was biting into his piercing again, and Chanyeol put a conscious effort not to stare. “Why would our Chen bring you into this place if you didn’t know you needed the computers getting actual Breaking data?”

“You’re gonna remind me forever, huh?” Baekhyun grinned at him still not even a bit apologetic as he turned around. The corridor seemed to go on forever, a place too silent and too still that felt a little too much like the last brink of peace before a war.

_ “Listen up,” _ Sehun’s voice was back in his ears a little too soon enough.  _ “You should see the door towards the maintenance stairs soon enough. The place you’re in is not a restricted area, so you shouldn’t have trouble at unlocking it with the data that has been installed in your hand chips. It comes from actual employees on leave, so it shouldn’t raise alarms until they check the records at the end of the day. if it all goes well, Chen will have them deleted by then, but still try not to open too many doors by swiping your IDs around, just in case. Suho was a bit reticent when he provided those, and apparently they don’t come from people in his department, so I’m not sure about permissions.” _

“Got it,” Baekhyun replied. Chanyeol could see the doors now, the ones leading to the maintenance stairs. His heart was starting to pound in his chest, so hard that he thought it’d tear free and get stuck in his throat, frantic.

_ “Also remember, the place where you are now is barely controlled, but once you walk across that door, you’ll be in a C security protocol. Nothing too fancy in terms of vigilance, but we  _ will _ cut communication to avoid any breach of security. Take that step and you will be on your own. Take that step and I will give the order. You’ll have thirty minutes to get the data, and then you need to be out.” _

Baekhyun nodded. “We’ll be fast. Right, Zero?”

Chanyeol knew haste was always paired up with Breaking. He was the one who had sat down with Sehun and Jongin and a very reluctant Junmyeon and had made calculations. The schedule was tight, but one couldn’t afford to lose time when literally everything was out to get you. And still, and as he stood before of the door, the minutes he had started to feel like far too few.

_ Take one step at a time. Focus like you were already inside of the game.  _ “We’ve got it.”

Baekhyun’s smile was sharp as an open cut. “Of course we do.”

\--

“What name did you get in your chip?” Chanyeol asked in a whisper. They had left the basement safely, first climbing the maintenance stairs, then getting into one of the elevators. Baekhyun had chosen one of the most crowded ones, so they didn’t have to scan their chips again to get the thing moving.

“Name?” the boy repeated. The bad thing about packed elevators was that people tended to push, and their need to be close to the door had made Baekhyun’s shoulder to dig into his own chest. The good thing was that everyone else seemed too engrossed in their own conversations to pay attention at the piercing hanging from the boy's lip - or at Chanyeol’s height and red hair, for that matter.

“Yeah, it appeared on the screen when we passed through the basement doors. You opened the first one with your chip, then I unlocked the other?”

“Ah, that. I think it was Kim Heechul? Something like that? What about it?”

“So you’re Kim Heechul. Then why is my ID data under the name of someone called  _ Tiffany?” _

Baekhyun stared up at him, eyes widening before he actually covered his mouth and laughed. The elevator stopped, and a group of young men in grey uniforms walked out. “Tiffany is a cute name. Not sure it fits you, though. Too fancy.”

“I’m sure it was Sehun’s idea to give that one to me.”

“Your friend kind of fits the general description of a rich, decadent heir. How comes he has been assigned to trash and not to finance?”

“Don’t say that. He’d bankrupt companies if you let him.” The elevator stopped again, and more people walked in and out. Chanyeol had been watching the floor guides as they spoke.  _ Come on, come on, come on, why does it have to stop in every floor?  _ According to the building plan, the database computers were located in the 20th floor. Around five minutes had passed since they had broke the connection with Sehun and they were barely on floor 15.

“I’m curious, though. He doesn’t seem like the kind of guy I’d picture being friends with someone like you.”

Chanyeol clicked his tongue. Floor 17 and of course a group of young boys was walking it, laughing out loud. Baekhyun was practically leaning against his chest, so relaxed, letting himself be pulled by the thrum of the crowd. “Someone like what?”

“You’re… nerdy. He’s consciously hot. Like one of those guys who think they’re doing you a favor by looking in your general direction.”

“Look at who’s talking.” Floor 18, and people only left the elevator that time. Chanyeol could breathe then, sharp inhales in and out his lungs. Baekhyun was grinning, a boy with a pretty face and teeth as sharp as knives.

“Maybe you are a magnet for those types, Zero boy.”

“People hotter than I am?”

“Nah. Spoiled little bastards.”

“He’s a Breaker too. Perhaps you two would have gotten along better if you’d gone for him when we all met.”

The elevator stopped again, on the 19th floor, and Baekhyun’s fingers wrapped around his wrist. He pulled, making way across the crowd, bowing his head and looking very apologetic. He got a couple of smiles, a couple of stares, and then they were out in an empty hall. “Maybe,” he said, without turning around, mustering the words like he didn’t really mind them. “I'm not really interested in him, though.” 

Chanyeol had never been the type to state the obvious, or to choke on his words for that matter. “We’re not on our floor,” he said.

Baekhyun turned around, shrugging. “I don’t want fifty office employees to see us walking into our objective through the front door. We’ll walk upstairs.”

“We’ve got five minutes to reach that door.”

“I know. Do you really walk that slow? It's time enough.”

It should be. Should had been. Chanyeol looked around, studying his surroundings. He had checked the map before the mission had started, and knew those floors were mainly reserved to employee offices and informatic archives, but he hadn’t had time to learn the floor layout by heart. There were only a couple of people, at the far end of the corridor, and they weren’t even looking at Baekhyun and him, but they would attract attention if they started to aimlessly wander around the place, and he didn’t think just casually asking where the stairs were would be a sensible course of action either.

“Come,” Baekhyun told him. There hadn’t been an obvious shift in his posture or expression, but Chanyeol could feel the change in him, an inner pull that made him listen and stare. “Here.”

“You sure about the way?”

“I got the map installed,” muttered Baekhyun, voice soft and uncharacteristically neutral as he started walking down the corridor. Chanyeol was almost sure he could see some kind of artificial gleam behind his eyes as the boy turned away, and shivered.

The corridors looked so reminiscent to Junmyeon’s department, everything white and black and neat, like the last time he had been there. They crossed ways with two or three people, Obelisk employees who didn’t even look at them twice because they were too uninterested, and too safe, and probably hadn’t even considered that someone  _ unwanted _ could have walked into a place like that.

_ But walking in is never the problem, right? _

After what seemed both an eternity and the fraction of a second, Baekhyun stopped in front of a pair of double steel doors.

“Here?” Chanyeol asked.

Baekhyun nodded and pushed the doors open, holding them in place so the other boy could walk in. Baekhyun didn’t immediately follow, staying in the corridor for one, two, three seconds, with his head high and his eyes narrowing into silver slits. He didn’t completely close the door when he finally followed Chanyeol into the stair landing.

_ What’s it?  _ Chanyeol’s lips formed the words, but he didn’t get to say them out loud. Baekhyun had dropped every pretense of carelessness and was moving like a bird of prey - calculated, alert, attuned to every noise and movement and detail.

“The voice,” he replied, a subtle movement of lips, a soundless whisper. “That is--”

Chanyeol heard it then - muffled words at the other side of the door, becoming clearer as the seconds ticked. _Do we have time_ _for this?_ he wondered, the rational part of his brain hesitating between fear and plain exasperation, but then the voice talked again and he froze in place.

“It can’t--”

Baekhyun’s fingers travelled to his lips, blocking his words before he was capable of letting them all out. Chanyeol doubted they had been loud enough even for him to discern, but he didn’t protest. He moved closer to the door instead, freeing himself of the other boy’s hold so he could look through the crack.

“--following orders. You’re advised to keep my presence here as something strictly confidential.”

The man who was being talked to wore a silver and white uniform, exactly like the one Junmyeon owned, and looked very small, very impressed and slightly panicked. The other person, Chanyeol knew - a tall, pale man with combed back, platinum hair, a colorless uniform and black, black eyes. Baekhyun looked outwardly upset, lips pressed and cheeks pale.

“So it is Commander Wu,” he spat, lips curving up in a smile that felt a bit too much like a grimace. “Destiny is funny as fuck sometimes.”

“What’s he doing here?”

“Isn’t he  _ everywhere?” _ Baekhyun shrugged, then pushed the door softly to close it. “Come on, we need to get to IT.”

He was already climbing the stairs when Chanyeol rushed to stop him. “Wait,” he ushered. “Aren’t we going to do something about that guy?”

“Something like what? He’s here, on this floor, and we’re heading up.”

“We don’t even know what he’s here for.”

“Exactly, and we have twenty minutes to get what we came here for, and no communication with Mr. OhLeo and the others. We either keep going and risk it or abort the mission, and I'm not doing that.”

Chanyeol’s fingers closed their grip around Baekhyun’s wrist. They had gone that far - he  _ had chosen _ to go all the way to that place and now there they were, the both of them, alone in the back stairs of a Dream Department building. He couldn’t just go home and start over. He couldn’t afford to think: it was either to act or to lose the game before it had even started.

“I seriously hope he decides to remain in his floor and mind his own business.”

“I don’t know if you ask too much, but in any case I am here to protect you, remember?” Baekhyun shrugged almost lazily, giving him the flash of a smile, and then the expression was gone and Chanyeol’s fingers had left his skin, and he was already heading up as a fast, steady pace.

All the Obelisk buildings had been made to look neat; little clones one to another, in straight, simple angles and walls of silver and black and white. Chanyeol had been to government offices during school trips and for bureaucracy issues; he had gone to visit Junmyeon at work and dragged into a cell underground to be questioned (twice) and, every time, the décor had always followed the same pattern. Everything was clinical, aseptic, because the Obelisk did not have an opinion: they were just the voice and messengers of what Dreamers saw in their induced slumber.

The fantasy was constant and coherent, but weakened when you walked in between the seams. Back stairs existed for service and emergency purposes only, and thus they were older, dirtier, with rusty metal under their feet and greyish stains on the walls. Chanyeol looked down as they ascended, peeking at the gap between the sets of stairs, like a child trying to guess how deep would the fall be. They were twenty floors over ground level, and he felt the vertigo for a second. He saw hooks when he looked up, a set of old harnesses and ropes connected to a pulley system, hanging from the ceiling above like metal claws.

“What’s--” he asked.

“A freight lift of sorts. For the kind of heavy cargo they don’t want to carry on elevators.” Baekhyun shrugged again, not sparing the ominous set of hooks a second glance. “Cutting-edge technology, I know. That’s the kind of stuff that happens when you spend all your budget in killing Dreamers and sending letters, I suppose.”

The world wasn’t that pretty once one saw the rot under the gleam. He had suspected, but now he knew, and the knowledge was suffocating. But he preferred that: the burn in his lungs as he travelled up and up the stairs, the weight of the portable visor that hung from his belt, the pressure of danger and the rush - those, they were all his, and the reverie the Dome lived in had never been.  


“After you,” called Baekhyun. He was just before him, already on the landing, holding the metal doors open. Chanyeol nodded at him and walked past, only to arrive to another long, white corridor - one wall as solid as all the others, the other made of opaque glass.

“Where’s the entrance?” he asked.

“Go forward. Calm, boy, smile for the cameras.”

“I thought they were already looped?”

Baekhyun’s eyes gleamed, a little too unnaturally again. It was like something was spinning and spinning inside them, a whirlwind of silver and black. “They were. Should have been, around a minute ago.”

Which meant they already were a minute late. “And so you want me to smile because…?”

“So you look pretty in case our Chen has failed in his duties. I have trust issues, you know?” Finally, Baekhyun stopped in front of a sliding glass door. There was a chip reader the wall at its right side, and he sucked his lip ring into his mouth as he placed his wrist on it. Everything was still for a second… then something beeped and the doors slid open, soundlessly. “Oh, look, he managed to override the permissions. Remind me to congratulate him when we get home.”

_ I’d punch you, if I were him, for those trust issues of yours.  
_

The moment he stepped into the area surrounded by glass, Chanyeol could feel the sudden drop in temperature and hear the soothing buzz of computers. According to the map he had been shown, the servers for the whole building were located in that floor, in a labyrinth of back CPUs and cables and blinking screens. Baekhyun had been standing at his side, silent since the doors had closed behind their backs, and followed him wordlessly when Chanyeol made his way towards the northernmost corner of the place.

The database servers took over most of the space of the room - rows and rows of black and dark silver computerized towers, with flickering red and blue and green lights that seemed to stare at him like living things as he made his way towards the main monitoring screen. That place was a treasure vault, full to the brim with information - there were so,  _ so  _ many things to learn, to rearrange and to destroy, if he only could look through it all.

He sighed, taking his portable IVR visor out, unfolding it as he kneeled on the floor. That one wasn’t helmet shaped: it was a smaller, leaner thing, with a front reflective glass panel that covered his eyes and nose and aluminium strips that kept it in place, like claws closing around his head. It was light and small and felt too fragile, but it was enough for the one swift blow he needed to deliver.

He fastened the IVR to his head, plugged the cable to the main entrance port into the system, and handed the communication microphone to Baekhyun before completely covering his own eyes with the visor.

“You keep me informed. Whatever,  _ whatever  _ that happens while I’m connected, just tell me.”

“Got you.”

“Just one more thing. We don’t have time. I can make one single connection, one Breaking attempt. What do you want me to look for? Project Morpheus or Zhang Yixing?”

Baekhyun blinked, eyes on him for a second too long. “Why do you ask?” he replied. “Morpheus. That’s the big, bad secret, ain’t it?”

“Roger that.” Chanyeol lowered the visor and then everything was black. The M.O.N.S.T.E.R mod was installed in the IVR terminal, and he drummed his fingers on his knees as the program navigated the outer layers of the database. He concentrated on the word - Morpheus - urged the system to look for it. A part of his brain almost prayed for the device to not find a match… but he still grinned when it did. “I got it,” he whispered. He leaned his back on the wall, closed his eyes and awaited for the pull, the impact. Baekhyun was standing beside him, he could feel that, but he wasn’t talking to him anymore. “I’m going in.”

And there he was. Going to his world, his battlefield. To M.O.N.S.T.E.R.

\--

The first thing he heard was the music.

A repetitive cadence it was, the soft, slightly eerie murmur of a music box. A soft, ghostly carnival melody.

Chanyeol looked around, stretching and flexing his fingers as the world came into focus before him. He needed the training and had been back at M.O.N.S.T.E.R daily, but it had been years since matches against random people in the system had been an actual challenge. He had needed to play it careful in the official servers as he practiced, balancing wins and loses, controlling himself - Breaking meant releasing his full force, unleashed.

_ Let’s see what we have _ , he thought, feeling the thrill in his own veins, the almost electric rush of adrenaline as the floor took shape under his feet and the landscape became tangible and solid.

He sank his hand in his hair, brushing the silver strands of hair from his eyes before looking up. There was no sky above his head - it never was one, never in M.O.N.S.T.E.R, only the usual grey, dull void - but that battlefield was still out in the open.

_ That should make it faster.  _ The world finished forming and Chanyeol grinned. “Ah, pretty.”

_ “What is?”  _ Baekhyun’s voice sounded slightly muffled in his headphones. He was out, in the real work. He did not have visual support, so of course he was as good as a blind man.

“Have you ever been to an Old Era amusement park?”

_ “No, but it sounds fun.” _

The place that actual arena had been based on probably had been - fun, and pretty and full of laughter - but what he could see as he walked closer was barely the skeleton of a corpse, an old cemetery of metal structures and flickering Christmas lights. Vegetation had grown over everything, covering what remained of buildings and attractions in a shroud of dark green. The railways of the rollercoaster remained clean, however, like naked, silver bones, as did the beams of the tilted ferris wheel - twisted and fallen like everything else in that place.

The music grew louder as he walked past the entrance, vibrating in the air, in his bones, like a cadence that called, called,  _ called  _ to him.  _ Come,  _ it told him,  _ join us, will you? Come closer, closer, let go and join our parade. _

Chanyeol was carrying his usual blaster, the gun that had made him win a tournament, and that felt much natural and much lighter there than in the real world. It felt like an extension of himself, and in that world he knew how to aim and where to shoot for the blast to make contact, to kill.  _ You bet I’m going. _

He’d been pushing his body too much during training during the last days, and it felt strange and amazing, being able to run without feeling the strain. He activated the radar on his visor, scanning his surroundings as he advanced across an empty avenue, ruined prop buildings at his sides and broken cobblestones under his combat boots.

_ “How’s it going?”  _ Baekhyun’s voice asked in his ear, so solid against the soft, metallic sound of the music box tune.

Chanyeol’s radar buzzed. He’d got an objective, marked oh-so-clearly in his mini map. He wetted his lips before he smiled, all wide, even if the other boy couldn’t see it. “Of course,” he muttered, raising his voice right after. “It had to be where the music is.”

_ “What? The data?” _

_ You ask too much, darling.  _ “What else? I'm heading to the source of the signal. I bet I’m in for quite a ride.”

_ “Any reasons you suspect that?” _

“Well, yeah. I’ve been here for two minutes and I haven’t been attacked yet.”

The avenue continued forward in a straight line, until it came to an abrupt ending, buildings crushed in the pile of rubble at the feet of the tilted ferris wheel. Chanyeol stopped on his tracks, squinting when he realized there were people there - or at least tiny, humanoid figures, dressed in golden and black, carrying instruments like they were part of some weird marching band. They weren’t shaped after humans, he confirmed, as he proceeded to advance again, the closest he could to the remaining building walls, heart loud in his chest and blaster ready - they looked like skeletons and automatons, made of yellowed bone and rusty steel. The music he had been hearing since he had arrived to that place came from them, a steady sound, music-box like, that got under his bones like sweeping cold, like he was submerged in water and sinking, sinking down.

The tiny creatures seemed to be practicing, assembling their instruments and preparing for something else. Chanyeol was almost at them when they started forming, all formal and in tiny, clumsy steps, until they stood in order, carrying their instruments, looking at the front with black rusty eyes and empty sockets. They took a step and then another, marching and marching and playing their song under the eerie Christmas lights of the main avenue, a procession of artificial ants.

_ “Hey, what’s going on?”  _ called Baekhyun.

Chanyeol blinked, still looking at the small army of bandsmen walking past him. He parted his lips, then bit the bottom one. “A… parade?”

_ “What? And here I was thinking that all M.O.N.S.T.E.R maps were dangerous. They aren’t… attacking you or anything?” _

“Do you want them to, or what?”

_ “Non-aggressive surroundings always make me feel suspicious.” _

“You’re sort of annoying, but I understand the feeling.”

Baekhyun’s laughter was all husky at the other side of the line, and Chanyeol just zoomed it out, blocking the feel of it as he advanced. His radar detected the signal for the data he needed to hack in a bit beyond, not at ground level but somewhere above - and he looked past the street, and past the band marching down it and he understood.

The tilted, broken ferris wheel.

Praised be the Dream that in that universe he couldn’t get tired.

“I’ve located the objective,” he announced.

_ “Wonderful, because you have five minutes.” _

“We are on schedule.”

_ “But you haven’t been attacked yet.” _

“How nice of you to comment that. Two times and all,” Chanyeol grunted, as the same time he left the cover of the ruined buildings and finally stepped into the open space before the ferris wheel. Most of the band members were already way down the road, and the ones that should have seen him plainly ignored his figure as he advanced.  _ Maybe it’s a lack of security? Since I’m Breaking for within and Jongin is supposed to be helping from outside? _

_ “What can I say, I’m feeling twice as nice today.” _

He reached the bottom of the wheel, held onto it, then sheathed his blaster and pushed himself up. That whole structure was so tilted that he would probably be able to walk up the thickest part of the crooked wires, then climb the rest. He just needed to be careful to not fall down - he doubted his avatar’s body could hold the impact without pushing his conscience out of the game.

“Infiltrating the enemy headquarters right under their noses sure gets you in a good mood,” he muttered under his breath, as we went up, up, up. He tried not to look down, not even when metal gave in under his fingers and feet and instead focused on the top of the ferris wheel, and in the dull not-sky above him. It felt like nothingness, like an empty void that would suck him in if he only moved so close.

_ “I’ve been born to raise hell, Zero boy. Nothing I can do about it.” _

“That’s one hell of a shitty excuse.”

After what felt like an eternity, Chanyeol climbed onto one of the broken carriages, a forlorn thing of twisted metal and broken glass, suspended sideways in mid-air. Chanyeol’s feet were on the window, and the boy wondered for a moment if the true peril of that arena wouldn’t precisely be there, in the whole fragile structure shattering to pieces under the sole of this combat boots, throwing him into a logout that his brain wouldn’t be able to stand.

He had to be careful, he  _ needed to be, _ with the bandsmen and the music and the steel, and Baekhyun’s voice nagging in his ear. But he was close, so close, and the data he needed was there, a couple of carriages beyond, two jumps and a connection away.

He gathered momentum. He took in a breath and jumped. There was no wind, not a gust, not a blow, and he felt like he was cutting through empty space.  _ You shouldn't be here,  _ that whole world seemed to say. But he was Breaking, he was there to steal - people like him were never wanted in places like those.  _ You’re unwelcome. You’re intruding. You seek too much. _

He fell on the side of another tilted carriage, completely horizontal over the grey amusement park. He swallowed, walking on metal and wires and glass, jumping again.

His objective was so close. The pavement metres under him, too broken and too hard. The whole ferris wheel, so twisted. And he never miscalculated, but his fingers slipped and his body trembled as it collided against the final carriage only to slid down, down and down.

“No!” he screamed, and his voice sounded foreign over the music box tune - disgusting, too loud and too alive - but he had played a million M.O.N.S.T.E.R games, and his brain was fast, more used to the virtual limbs of silver haired  _ Zero _ than the clumsy hands and feet of the human Park Chanyeol, and so he seeked for purchase and found it, hand closing around the metal frame of the lowmost window, stalagmites of splintered glass tearing the skin of his hand from side to side.

He screamed, but he did not let go. There was no pain in M.O.N.S.T.E.R, not as it would have been in the real world, but there were  _ system warnings _ \- hit points going down and electricity cursing through him, paralyzing him and forcing his fingers to open.

He didn’t listen and pushed himself up instead, until he was lying on the floor inside of the rusty carriage, breathing heavily and doing his best to stand up instead of just clutching his fingers to his chest. He couldn’t allow a complaint, or a whimper.

_ “Zero?”  _ Baekhyun called. Chanyeol sat on the floor, looked around.

“I’m here.”

_ “So you were finally attacked?” _

“Not quite. I almost fell to my death, that’s all.”

_ “Poor baby,”  _ Baekhyun practically cooed. He was annoying, the bastard.  _ “You have like three minutes left.” _

“Yeah. But by the way, I’m here already.” He needed to cross the level to win, to reach the signal in his radar for it all to turn in victory and him to retrieve the data, and the only thing he had left to do was to climb to the actual ceiling of the carriage and finally claim what was his. He turned around to the other window, breaking the remaining pieces of glass by hitting them with his elbow. He flexed his fingers when he was finished, checking the response of his limbs, grinning when he realized the remnants of electricity were gone and his body was again at one hundred percent. “Do me a favor, Baekhyun. Plug in the transfer device. I’m starting to send you the data in five seconds.”

_ “What a hardworking boy,”  _ Baekhyun purred, and Chanyeol ignored him and climbed out, and up.

He found himself at the top of the amusement park then, above the broken roller coaster rails and the ruined fairytale castle. He could see the band down below, the robots and skeletons tiny figures of black and white moving in unison, still playing the same song over and over again.

There should have been wind, at that height. The wind in the Dome wasn’t natural, but at least it  _ was _ there, as a remnant, a memory of times past. M.O.N.S.T.E.R didn’t usually make an effort to conceal how abnormal it was.

“I’m Breaking,” he whispered. “Zero, in.”

He had crossed the map, fulfilled the objective, and the usual female robotic voice was soon filling every crevice in his head. “ACCESS GRANTED. BREAKING SUCCEEDED. RETRIEVING DATA.”

_ “Hah, it’s lighting up, _ ” Baekhyun said.

Chanyeol closed his eyes, brushing Zero’s silver hair away, keeping his hand - the hand that should have been wounded, and bleeding, on his temple. He had a slight headache, a tiny, constant pulse over his ear, and he pressed his lips in a tight, thin line when the images started to appear.

A black haired girl, dressed in white, submerged in water. A smiling dark haired man, with the soft face of a boy and the eyes of a monster. He knew that one: it was the doctor who had handed him his “destiny” with the smile of a father, a big brother, a friend. He was looking at the girl just like that, in an empty room in another world.  _ What? _

“You’re trying to download too much in too little time. Can your equipment afford that?”

Chanyeol’s eyes opened, wide and round. Jongin should have been Breaking into that world too, but he should have done it far away from him - and that,  _ that _ was not his friend’s voice. It was something else, metallic, a whisper that was all too close to his ear and far away at the same time, and Chanyeol felt himself hold his breath in reply.

When he looked up, there was a figure sitting in front of him - a man he didn’t know, with brown hair and dark eyes, a red partylike mask over his face and a gas mask over his mouth - observing him with a hand on his own cheek. He was dressed in crimson, from his combat suit to his gloves to his boots, and he looked much more like a M.O.N.S.T.E.R tournament contestant than a Breaker. Breakers always tried to be less colourful, so the world wouldn't notice them when it went for the strike. Contestants, however, dressed to impress.  


“What--”

“You’re Zero, aren’t you?” the stranger asked. The data kept downloading, from the server to Baekhyun’s memory drive, and Chanyeol guessed it was okay, as long as he could keep it all going. “Park Chanyeol, the boy without a Fate, the one who got nothing,  _ nothing _ from the Dream.”

Chanyeol gasped. He could hear Baekhyun calling to him from the other side of the line.  _ “Zero--”  _ he started. Chanyeol muted his voice channel.

“Who are you?”

“Me? Codename Clarity.” 

_ Clairity.  _ Chanyeol had never heard that name before, not in the M.O.N.S.T.E.R tournaments, nor in the Breaker scene. He had never seen anyone wearing full red - the color of an open wound, of spilled blood.

“What do you…? You knew I was coming.”

“Not really. I was really in the right place, in the right moment. It’s not like you’re not famous, Zero; your tournament avatar is Dome-wide famous, but it's not the only virtual embodiment of yours to have a reputation in the underground network, you know? You’ve Broken into Project Morpheus data after all,” the man chuckled, a short, sudden sound, as he made a point of looking at Chanyeol, up and down, slow. “Twice, you’ve done it, as of today. How impressive.”

“Who are you?”

“No one.” Chanyeol needed more time for all the data to download. Seconds, only seconds, to request a disconnection, and the only thing he could do was to remain still as the process completed itself, looking at the stranger - Clarity - as he stood on the ceiling of the carriage, eyes on the parade below. “But perhaps a bit more than  _ you _ are. Or a bit less. It really depends.”

“What the hell do you mean?”

Chanyeol could see only his eyes, but he would have sworn that Clarity was raising his eyebrows at him, an adult scolding a child. “Language, Zero,” he warned. “But don’t be upset. I wasn’t expecting you here, but it has been quite a pleasant surprise to find you. I wanted to talk to you, you see. Observe you. You’re a fun one.”

“I-- Pardon me?”

“Tell me, what do you think about Destiny?”

_ That.  _ Chanyeol swallowed, thoughts turning into bile in his throat.  _ Too convenient. An undeserved brand on his skin. A lie.  _ “Who are you?” he repeated in the end.

“M.O.N.S.T.E.R is quite a clever system,” said Clarity, turning away from him again. “It generates random maps from pieces of information floating around in the Network, but it’s also connected to the players’ brain. You will fight those things you fear - sometimes, only sometimes, because the game is out to kill you. Other times, it will create a whole world out of the things you  _ think. _ ”

Chanyeol stood up, between the ground and the air and the skyless ceiling overhead. The data had finished downloading and there had been no danger, only that man. “I don’t understand what you mean to say.”

“Ah, I was here in this world before you came, and don’t you think it’s a funny place? Look at that black, little parade, making its way down their black, little avenue? Skeletons and robots, no eyes and no heart, dancing to the rhythm of their own perfect tune. They don’t need a dome over their heads to be isolated.”

“What?”

“You have a heart, right Zero? You have eyes on your face?”

Chanyeol stood up. His avatar body never got tired, but his legs were shaking. “Of course I do,” he whispered. He realized then that the music had stopped, that the black and yellow figures of the band were still. “But--”

Clarity smiled then, a red, cannibalistic gash under his red mask. “You should run, then,” he said. “Run, Zero, run, because they’re coming for them.”

_ “What?” _

There was a sound then, of something heavy slamming against steel, and the whole structure of the ferris wheel shook in its foundations. He knew he shouldn’t look down, but he did anyway, only to see black and yellow figures, like wasps, throwing themselves at the twisted wires, trying to climb.

“This thing won’t hold up much longer,” Clarity commented, so calm, too calm, like he was talking about the weather and not a ferris wheel collapsing with them on it. “I would run, if I were you.”

Chanyeol looked around. The band was all around the ferris wheel, instruments discarded and claws out, climbing. The uniformed skeletons had empty sockets instead of eyes, the robots were made of rusty iron and wires - heartless. They both had sharp nails, pointy teeth. “Wow, thanks for the advice!” he exclaimed. He couldn’t stay still, he needed to move. He'd gotten the data, he needed to run. “Initiate disconnection!”

“SYSTEM ERROR.”

_ “Fuck!” _ He jumped, from the ceiling of the carriage to the wires keeping it in place. He remembered then that he had muted Baekhyun and reactivated the connection. “Hey! Do you hear me? There’s a bit of trouble around here!”

_ “Hey? The fuck, Zero, you  _ muted _ me!” _

“Technically yeah, I did, but listen--”

_ “You’ve got trouble, yeah, yeah, I heard that. I would be much more worried about your wellbeing if it wasn’t because we’re also in a messy situation right here.” _

“Define messy situation!” Chanyeol exclaimed. He ran, the fastest he could, towards the central axis of the ferris wheel. Skeletons were appearing now, coming from below and trying to grab at his feet.

“Eyes! Your eyes!” one exclaimed, and Chanyeol had the clemency of shooting it in the face.

“Activate emergency disconnection protocol!”

“SHUTTING ALL PROGRAMS. OUT IN TEN SECONDS. BEWARE OF SECONDARY EFFECTS LIKE DIZZINESS, VERTIGO, RISES IN BLOOD TENSION AND PARTIAL OR PERMANENT BRAIN DAMAGE THAT MAY--”

_ “You know, Zero, just the typical. You were all concentrated hacking into the data and alarms began going off all around us. So now they’re know where we are and I’m stuck here with your unconscious body.” _

Claws closed around Chanyeol’s ankle and he felt himself lost balance and fall. He was still too high above ground level, and he tried to direct his fall so he landed on the wires and not beyond them. “I’ve already got the data, unplug the drive and hide it in your clothes or something!” he told Baekhyun. He could feel hands on him, everywhere, tearing his clothes, his skin. He wasn’t bleeding, he couldn’t bleed, but his HP was going down, and when he looked up there was a skeleton straddling him.

“Eyes!” it shouted.

Chanyeol should have been scared. It was the logical reaction when a crazed thing was about to claw half your face off. Instead of that, he scoffed. “By the Dream, you’re disgusting.” He raised his gun and shot.

He was met with a growl and freedom, and he elbowed himself free of the rest of hands of bone and steel. He didn’t know how much time had passed, but those were being the ten longest seconds in his whole fucking life.

“Byun Baekhyun, listen up, I’m doing an emergency disconnection, so when I log out I’m gonna be--” He didn’t have time to finish the sentence, or to hear Baekhyun reply, because then the whole ferris wheel  _ moved. _ It was different from the previous shakes, not a shift caused by a slam, or by decens of bodies climbing the wires, but a tremor that seemed to erupt from the very core of the structure, like it was inhaling - sentient,  _ alive. _

Chanyeol’s body went flying, colliding against the knot of wires at the axis of the wheel. All of it was fully horizontal now, like a broken plate, a disc about to fly to the air. and it kept moving, twisting, folding into himself like it was made of clay instead of iron.

He felt cold, even though he couldn’t possibly be. He felt mentally exhausted. His HP bar was blinking in red and he didn’t know where his gun was, but still he opened his eyes - and he saw black ice.

It was growing in the whole outer perimeter of the ferris wheel, sharp like teeth. And now  _ that  _ was wicked as hell because the whole structure kept twisting, reassembling itself in what looked like a giant, monstrous mouth that was actually closing on him.

There was no way he would be able to avoid that. It was either letting himself be eaten by a metal  _ thing _ or jumping and crashing against the cobblestones down below. But he knew when to move, he knew when to jump, he knew when he had to and when he didn’t.

He closed his eyes. He felt it. The nausea, the vertigo, the pain everywhere. He couldn’t feel his surroundings as his head spinned and his heart raced in his chest, like a wounded bird in a cage that just wanted to escape, escape,  _ escape. _

Then he noticed the floor, cold under his skin, and a warm hand on his shoulders. Air burned in his lungs as he moved, getting on his hands and knees to retch.

“It’s okay, I got you,” a low voice said, between soothing and amused. Chanyeol’s whole being reacted to it, to the sound of the words and the inflexion in the tone, the same way it did when the hands moved to his hair, unfastening the IRV visor and taking it off.

“Breathe,” Baekhyun told him, as his face came into focus. He was pretty. Everything about him was so pretty. Pretty as a knife, as its blade, as scars on skin.”I’ve got you.”

“The data--” Chanyeol couldn’t breathe, was breathing too fast. “I got it all… I--”

Baekhyun’s lips moved to his ear. “Good boy,” he said. “The best boy. Such a reliable boy. Focus now, yes? We still need to get out, and I’m not letting anyone touch you.”

Chanyeol closed his eyes. Baekhyun had stood up, and he was cold, and he needed to get it together. He needed his body, now, his brain - there was no way he was letting the Obelisk take him again.

“How much do you need?” Baekhyun asked, looking at him out of the corner of his eye. He discarded his white lab coat and stood there in his dull Obelisk uniform. It looked almost obscene on him, a provocation, when he was smirking like that.

“Time? Give me half a minute… Give me…”

“That’s fair enough. Keep breathing.”

Chanyeol could hear the steps, and the noise, and the voices. He closed his eyes, concentrating in his own breathing, in and out, forcing his body to relax and willing,  _ willing _ the nausea to recede.  _ Focus. You’re not going to die because you were too dizzy to stand. Focus. _

When he finally looked up, they were surrounded. By at least ten men in military uniforms, weapons in hand - led by no other, of course, than Commander Wu in the flesh, with his white uniform and pale hair and thin, pressed lips.

“Sigma,” he said. He threw a short, disdainful glance at Chanyeol’s still kneeling form. “And the Park boy.”

“What’s with the bitchface, Commander? Not happy to see me?”

“Not in the least.”

“Oh, how sad. I thought we had something special. You have all this apparently very secure buildings, you see, and I walk into them. It  _ is  _ actually a very fun past-time.”

“You’re under arrest,” said Commander Wu, voice neutral. “Seize them both.”

Chanyeol blinked, inhaling, deep. He could move now, better. He was sure that his legs would hold his weight, so he could try to fight. Perhaps Baekhyun had a plan, an alternative escape route.

Instead of that, the boy just sighed, looking positively annoyed. “Seriously, Commander, you don’t want to cross me. I was just repaying a favour by coming here. I’m not the one who tried to steal classified information, now was I?”

_ What? _

Commander Wu lowered his gun, only for a bit. His men were still around Baekhyun but hadn’t grabbed him yet - they were immobile, waiting for the final order. “What game are you playing now, Sigma?”

“Told you. Keep the boy and whatever info he stole. I was just here in bodyguard duty in exchange for some favors. I will be able to live without them, if you just let me go.”

_ What!? _

There was no way on Earth Baekhyun was saying that. No way on Earth Commander Wu wasn’t going to seize the hell out of both of them.

“So you’re what, Sigma, selling your partner?” That was the first time Chanyeol could hear something besides contempt in Commander Wu’s voice, and for some reason his voice sounded… pleased. Chanyeol wasn’t sure he liked it, or that he liked  _ that _ , and he frantically tried to lock his gaze with Baekhyun's.

“You’ve known me for years, Commander, I’ve been a solo player all along.” There was tension in Baekhyun’s shoulders as he stood in front of the enemy, Chanyeol realized. Not the quiet strain of someone about to surrender, but the pressure of a coil about to snap. Wu was staring at Baekhyun, eyes dark, and Chanyeol breathed in and found most of the nausea gone.

He didn’t look at Baekhyun; he didn’t need to.

“It’s a pity,” said Commander Wu, slowly. like he was savouring the words. “That I can't do what you ask of me.”

Baekhyun sighed, letting his shoulders drop. Then he moved forward and elbowed the man in the stomach.

Everything happened so fast. Commander Wu bent forward with a shocked  _ oomf;  _ Baekhyun closed his fingers around the chain dangling from his mouth. Chanyeol stood, mind suddenly crystal clear. Wu’s men shouted something, going for them both, but Baekhyun was faster, always faster. He freed his taser tool, pressed it hard against the Commander’s neck. His hands went for the gun the other man was still holding.

A soldier tried to grab Chanyeol. The boy elbowed him in the ribs, instinctively. Baekhyun raised his eyebrows, black hair falling all over his face. “I wouldn’t touch that kid,” he said, to the soldier Chanyeol had just attacked and the rest of the men. “Unless you want to spend the three next hours wiping your Commander’s brains from every wall of the server room, that is.”

He said it casually, like he was offering the soundest piece of advice. Perhaps it was, considering he was holding a blaster against Wu’s temple with the smallest lopsided grin on his face. The Commander was unconscious, half fallen on the ground, half in Baekhyun’s arms.

“The penalty for that is death,” the soldier protested. He let go of Chanyeol, however, as Baekhyun shrugged.

“Add that to the list of things I’m wanted for. Do you really know who am I?”

Another man, who looked like the second in command, took a step forward. “Sigma. What do you want?”

“Give Zero a gun,” replied Baekhyun, voice firm, gesturing towards Chanyeol with a tip of his head. “Then move away. Let us leave the room and your Commander lives, it’s  _ that _ easy.”

“Reinforcements have been called. You will be caught.”

“Then better for you, right?”

Chanyeol thought that it was impossible, denying something to Baekhyun when he asked for it like that. Opposing him - the real, ruthless him - felt like dancing with Death, curtsying before it even when you knew he carried a scythe on his back and knifes under every sleeve. One ran away from Death, bowed before it, fought it, but never,  _ ever _ , accepted to dance.

“You’re a dead man,” the second in command said, but he ordered his men to step back and offered his own gun to Chanyeol, begrudingly.

“It’s not the time for me to die, yet.”

Baekhyun let go of the unconscious Commander Wu, who felt with a thump to the floor. Everyone’s eyes were on him - Sigma, the terrorist; Byun Baekhyun, the rebel boy - but he just slightly touched the fallen body with the tip of his boot and pushed his dark bangs out of his face.

“Let’s go,” he said. “Zero boy.”

They started to run and soon as they left the server room behind, and the semblance of order was shattered. Baekhyun looked around, frowning, calibrating the corridor in front of them and the road they had left behind.

“Hope you have an escape route,” grunted Chanyeol under his breath.

The alarm had been given. They’d lost time. Baekhyun had to know that, but he didn’t even have the decency of looking apologetic. “The way we came in?”

“Through the fucking basement? We’re on a 20th floor!”

“Didn’t I get you a gun?” Chanyeol could hear the raw amusement in his voice, even if Baekhyun was not smiling. And he realized, barely a second later, that he was panting as they ran towards the emergency stairs, and that he was annoyed at Baekhyun, and still a little dizzy, and  _ burning  _ \- pulse drumming in his ears, in his chest, heart hammering - but he was not afraid.

He had survived M.O.N.S.T.E.R. He had survived Commander Wu. There was no way they weren’t getting out.

“Oh, wow.” Baekhyun stopped on his tracks when they reached the landing, bending over the railing to stare at the gap. He let out a sound, a low curse shaped somewhere between a hiss and a groan. “Should have guessed that this was gonna happen.”

Chanyeol didn’t need to look to know what was going on - he could hear the voices, the steps going up the stairs. He checked, only to verify… and paled. It was obvious that they were going to send reinforcements to get them. It was obvious that Commander Wu would have come to the place with some men. It was obvious that they had lost precious time, both inside the M.O.N.S.T.E.R world and out, and that every second counted, especially when the man who had come to get them had a high enough rank to gather troops efficiently, and fast. He had calibrated the facts, assimilating them in his mind, and believed that they had to run but that they could make it. Commander Wu wouldn’t be able to give any order if he was lying on the floor, electroshocked and unconscious.

Unless, of course, he had given them before.

“Shit.”

Men were climbing the stairs, in pristine military uniforms, tasers in belt, blasters in hand. At least thirty of them, walking steadily, in formation. Chanyeol knew there were more behind them, rushing towards them through the corridor, and there could be more elsewhere - there  _ would  _ be, at the exits, at the main strategic points.

Baekhyun could be most lethal living creature he had ever seen, but that was too much, even for him.

“Don’t let those men go up!” Chanyeol called, dashing towards the door they had just crossed, sliding the bolt in place to keep it closed. It wouldn’t hold, not much, but it was better than nothing.

Baekhyun snorted at him, but obeyed anyway. “I don’t like being told what to do, you know?” He sighed, but he ducked behind the railing, and he focused, and he shot, at the same moment the leader of the Obelisk troops told them to  _ stop and surrender. _ “Oh, come on, soldier guy, that goes for you too.”

Blasts of red and white light flew through the air and Chanyeol had to crouch too, behind the metal railing. That wasn’t working. It wouldn’t work like that. He knew enough about games to know when a match was lost, when it was okay to engage the enemy and when you needed to do something else to turn the tables.

_ But how?  _ He looked around, at the dirty walls, the rusty stairs, then up. He saw it. He swallowed. That would have to do.

“Baekhyun, cover me! For the Dream’s sake, don’t let them shoot me in the head!”

Someone banged at the door. The bolt held, but it was rusty and the hits kept coming. Baekhyun didn’t look at Chanyeol as he stood. “Hey, hey, I told you I wouldn’t let them touch you, right?”

“You also told Commander Wu you would sell me if he let you go!” Chanyeol stood. A bolt of red energy flew just past his ear. He cursed and raised up, to the tangle of ropes that hanged from the pulley system on the ceiling.  _ Freight cargo, huh. _

“After all the trouble to get you? I was obviously lying.” Baekhyun looked back, only for the second it took him to reposition, and raised his eyebrows as Chanyeol fell beside him, ropes in hand and fingers working in untangling them.  _ Come on.  _ “What are you doing?” he asked, almost,  _ almost _ like he didn’t care. The bangs at the door continued, louder, the whole metal structure of it shaking with every bit. Baekhyun was shooting, focused, well-aimed, fast, but he was only a man and even though some of Commander Wu’s men had collapsed, most of them kept going up, up, up. “I could use the help, you know?”

“I  _ am _ helping.”

The rope was thick in his hands, sturdy. He took a deep breath and wrapped the end of it around his right leg, winding it around the outer side of it, tying a knot at the front. He did the same around the other one, working as fast as he could, making the knots resistant, strong. He made it go around his pelvic area, then his waist, wrapping it around himself at the best of his possibilities.  _ I’m going to die, right? Park Chanyeol, you’re gonna die.  _ He pulled from the rope, hard.  _ Steady. _ He looked up again as the door shook in its hinges.  _ Okay. Okay.  _ He stood, walked to the railing. It wasn’t that high, really.

“Baekhyun,” he called. “I need to ask you two questions.”

The boy pressed the trigger, clicked his tongue. “A perfect occasion do so, but okay.”

“First: can you shoot in really fast motion?”

“Of course I do! Next?”

Chanyeol half climbed onto the railing. The gap was so deep, illuminated in white light. He swallowed. Baekhyun was facing him, not really that far away. “Do you trust me?”

The boy looked up, at the polleys, then at him and down, at the makeshift harness around his hips and waist, and Chanyeol saw the devil, staring into his eyes with a grin. “Ah,” he said. The bolt gave in and the metal doors slammed against the walls, and Chanyeol dropped his gun and opened his arms. Baekhyun didn’t doubt - not for a second, not for a heartbeat. He ran into Chanyeol’s arms, held onto him so tight that the boy couldn’t breathe. “Don’t drop me,” he whispered.

Men and women were dashing into the room, like a dam had broken, a very dishevelled Commander Wu at the front of the tide. “SIGMA!” he exclaimed.

Chanyeol knew enough about games to know when a match was lost, when it was okay to engage the enemy and when you needed to do something else. He knew when to move, he knew when to jump, he knew when he had to and when he didn’t. That time, he held onto Baekhyun as hard as he could and let themselves fall into the stairwell.

M.O.N.S.T.E.R games were always the same: you could be decent by playing it safe, but if you wanted to be  _ good,  _ you needed to know the risk, own it. Chanyeol was aware that the pulley system in the building was used to lift up cargo, that it should be sturdy enough to bear the weight of two adult men. He supposed that the thing had a braking system, some kind of security measure so cargo would end up in pieces on the floor if there was an accident. That’s what he imagined, and those were the variables in his head that had made him push it, go for it and  _ risk it _ , instead of fighting to death or surrender, but as he was falling, so,  _ so _ fast, with the air whistling in his ears and the other boy so,  _ so  _ warm against his body, he believed for a moment that he was going to die like that, crushed against the concrete of the basement floor, and with Byun fucking Baekhyun in his arms.

_ This is not M.O.N.S.T.E.R,  _ he thought, frantically, as the flights of stairs passed in a blur around them. He didn’t know if the braking system was functioning, he didn’t know if he had been a fool, but he forced himself to open his eyes and the floor was so close, so close, coming closer.

He couldn’t scream. He couldn’t breathe. He pressed Baekhyun against him harder, felt his pulse, his rushed exhales.

And then, just then, the pull came - heavy, sharp and painful. The end of the reel. The pulley stopping. Baekhyun and him, being suspended in mid-air for an eternal second. And the rope snapping and them falling. The air had been stolen from Chanyeol’s lungs and he’d thought he’d suffocate. 

He’d hit the floor after that, Baekhyun still on him, so hot and panting.

Chanyeol looked up. Breathed. His body hurt, but he was alive.  _ Alive _ and in pain and about to throw up, but there.  _ There. _

“You okay?” panted Baekhyun, hands on Chanyeol’s neck, so soft. “No broken bones?”

Chanyeol groaned and sat, moving his arms, his legs. “I’m a mess, but I can keep going. I guess.” 

Baekhyun’s fingers were on his skin, caressing his nape, his touch feather-like. His eyes were open, so wide, blurred and frenetic. “That was  _ awesome, _ ” he whispered. “You’re awesome.”

It was just a dumb, fleeting thought (it was the adrenaline, the rush, the shared near-death experience) but Chanyeol could have kissed him right then and there. Deep and desperate and until he couldn't breathe.  


“Zero,” called Baekhyun, getting up, and suddenly Chanyeol remembered that they weren’t out of danger yet, that they were in a basement and being chased and they didn’t have time. “Come on. To the garbage disposal sector. We’re close, okay? We’re close.”

The blaster Baekhyun had taken from Commander Wu had survived the fall, and the boy grabbed it from the floor as Chanyeol stood up. He could move, definitely, but he winced as he removed the traces of severed rope from himself. He could hear voices, drawing closer but still far enough.

“Let’s go.” Baekhyun’s fingers closed around his wrist as he started moving forward, fast, across corridors and empty rooms, through a way that Chanyeol didn’t exactly recognize, but that led them to the door they had first used to walk into the C security protocol part of the building. He released Chanyeol, only to point his gun at the lock and shoot, once, twice, thrice. “Blasters,” he muttered as the door swinged, automatic lock burnt. “Always so messy.”

The voices were closer now, the steps clearer, and Chanyeol’s mind was starting to awaken now, adrenaline making him fast, and strong, and aware of his surroundings. He had his headpiece still, the tiny metallic triangle he had been using to talk to Sehun when they had arrived, and he activated the connection to their server again as he ran after Baekhyun towards the big residue disposal room.

“Leo? Zero here?” he called, panting.

_ “You’re back! There was an alert through the Network, I thought you have been caught in it!” _

“Ah, we were, but we kicked Commander Wu’s ass and then Zero saved the day,” Baekhyun chided in.

_ “Did he?” _

“Basically. But hey, tell Command we’re going out right now, and to expect us somewhen, as soon as we can reach headquarters. The mission was successful, by the way. We’re heading to the exit now.”

_ “Through the waste disposal terminal?”  _ Sehun asked, sounded slightly alarmed as they barged into the room. They were lucky: it was empty. No guards, no patrols - Commander Wu had not expected for them to flee that way, and Chanyeol couldn’t blame him.  _ “Wait, remember what I told you about empty containers only being disposed every few minutes?” _

Chanyeol’s breath hitched. “When’s the next one?”

_ “Eight minutes.” _

Baekhyun clicked his tongue so hard that Chanyeol could hear it through his headpiece. “We don’t have that much time.”

_ “But--” _

“We’ll figure it out.” The boy did something and then the communication was out.

“Seriously, Baekhyun,” protested Chanyeol. The boy already was climbing the metallic stairs at the side of the disposal machine, swift and strangely graceful, even after all they had been through.

“We can’t wait, Zero. Can you think of a better choice?”

Chanyeol didn’t exactly want to do that, but he went up the stairs after him. The machine was rumbling and humming beneath them, a container apparently already in. “Well, I can’t,” he admitted.

“So trust me?” Baekhyun told him, grin all cheeky, a replica of Chanyeol’s own words just before. A second passed, in silence.

“I don’t think that’s a very sensible choice.”

“And doing a kamikaze jump into the stairwell is?” The gates below them opened, a container started rolling out on the conveyor belt. Chanyeol could hear steps now, getting closer once more.  _ We can’t stay here. _

“Listen to me, Byun Baekhyun. If you make me jump into a box full of human excrement, I swear I’m going to kill you.”

The boy pushed him forward, hard. “Come on, baby boy, don’t be overdramatic.”

He didn’t even have time to scream before he fell, fell, into a pile of something disgustingly soft, and irregular. It smelled foul, a tang too sweet and too deep that made him want to retch. He was trying not to sink as he felt Baekhyun land right beside him, and the lid closed over their heads just immediately after.

“What’s--” he tried to ask.

“Organic residue,” Baekhyun whispered, voice so close and hand on his shoulder, grabbing the fabric of his clothes. “As in food, no shit. Now hush. And don’t make that face at me - it makes you ugly.”

Everything was dark around them, and Chanyeol just tried to close his eyes and concentrate on not breathing through his nose. All sounds were muted by the metallic walls of the container, but he would have sworn that he heard the voices of people shouting, searching for them and vaguely thought it was impossible for them to be found in that place. The only thing he needed to do was to stay still and try not to puke.

The conveyor belt was moving, the walls vibrated, and Chanyeol pressed his hand against one of them. He would have been sleepy, hadn’t he been so utterly disgusted by the smell.  _ Come on,  _ he thought.  _ Almost. _

He felt a bump, when the container left the conveyor belt. They kept moving and they were out, they had to be. He was about to relax when he remembered, like a painful slap to the face, that only empty, emergency containers went to the warehouses of the disposal facility directly. Full ones were meant for--

“Baekhyun,” he called, sounding perhaps a bit too alarmed. “This thing is headed to a garbage press.”

“Ah, no. Not really.”

The container was going faster then. There was a small drop, a jump. Chanyeol had studied the routes for residue disposal before they had started the mission: they knew they travelled underground, close to the sewer systems, which meant they were probably in the tunnels already.

“‘Not really’? Stop kidding, Sehun said--”

“This is organic trash.”

“And so?”

“They don’t make it go through the press. It’s moved directly to the incinerators.”

“I--  _ What?  _ And that is supposed to _calm_ me.”

“Ah, you really don’t trust me at all. I’m pretty hurt right now.”

Chanyeol let out an incredulous whine. He hadn’t gone that far only to be roasted to death among half-chewed meat and banana peels. “Baekhyun, these fucking box is made of steel.”

“And?” The boy was shifting, his side against Chanyeol’s, his hands moving. There was a metallic clank against the wall in front of them, and after that, a sparking light. “It’s not that thick, we break it.”

_ The blaster.  _ Baekhyun had done something to the gun, and the blast of energy had turned into a thick, bluish beam of light, so scorching hot that Chanyeol could feel the rise in temperature from where he was. He left his head fall on Baekhyun’s shoulder, perhaps because he was the only thing there that didn’t feel disgusting to the touch, perhaps because he was too tired, and too done, and that was better than screaming and losing his head because  _ that was not how a blaster was suppose to be used. _ “You’ll make it go into overheat.”

“Really.” Baekhyun chuckled. He was applying the energy to the seams, and there  _ was _ a rattling sound, but the container kept moving and Chanyeol could feel the momentum, the unstoppable pace of them advancing, fast. He sighed, taking a deep, shaky breath as he searched for support in the walls around him and then slammed onto the one in front of him.

He clenched his teeth and tried not to scream as the first wave of white pain hit him. He ignored and went for the blow again. He could see light in the place where the  beam in Baekhyun’s gun had already burned through the metal plate.

“Zero,” the other boy called him - a low warning, commanding.

“What?” Chanyeol winced. The air reeked of trash and he couldn’t breathe, but his body reacted anyway, head turning towards Baekhyun’s silhouette. “I’d take a dislocated shoulder over an incinerator any day, thanks.”

“I’m not saying that the idea is bad. I’m just saying that we should do it together. Once I’m done with this.”

“I was going to suggest the same thing.”

Chanyeol could see the light now - one long vertical stripe, another horizontal. Baekhyun’s left hand was on his arm, his lips practically on his collarbones. He looked up, grey eyes strangely striking, even in the dimness. “You give the order, then,” he murmured.

“ _ Now.” _

They took impulse. They hit the wall, one time, and another, and another one, and the plate gave in. Chanyeol had lost count of how many times he had fallen that day, and he felt the cold, rather than the hit, when he plunged into a body of cold water. The was glad for the crash, and for the liquid softening the blow somehow, as his back touched the concrete bottom. He could see floating trash, when he opened his eyes underwater; garbage sinking and Baekhyun’s form, already swimming up. 

He didn’t think. His whole body was sore, but it responded to his orders with precision when he took impulse at the bottom of the pond and propelled himself up. His lungs were starting to burn when he breached the surface, a welcome pain before the first intake of fresh air. Baekhyun was already out of the water, half kneeling and half lying on the grey concrete floor of a tunnel, and he stretched his hand for Chanyeol to take.

And it was only there, as he lied on the floor, eyes fixed on the ceiling and breath ragged, when he realized that  _ he had escaped from the M.O.N.S.T.E.R arena, from the building, from the incinerator, from Commander Wu.  _ They were dirty and bruised, but had slapped the Obelisk in the face and they had made it.

“We are safe, right?” he asked. He stared up at the room they had just left behind - a huge, open space, with a conveyor belt still running, close to the ceiling and a pond of greenish water down below.

“They’ll get a system failure alarm as soon as that container reaches the disposal facility, but we have time to run, don’t we?” He was sitting on the floor of a grey tunnel now, dirty and dripping wet, but he smiled at Chanyeol anyway, a knowing, almost conspiratorial grin. “Congratulations, Zero boy. Your first serious mission turned out to be a little more… risky than expected, but you did well.”

“Likewise,” replied Chanyeol, because he was tired, and weak, and dirty, but proud of himself still. He stared as Baekhyun sank his hand in his hair to push it away from his forehead. His bangs were too long when wet: they practically covered his eyes, made his irises look like silver rings, coiling around his pupils.

“Hey Zero,” he said. He had turned around, he had caught him staring, but didn’t comment on it. What did Baekhyun think, Chanyeol wondered, when he looked at him? “Let’s go home, okay?”

The boy nodded, looked down at his hands, clenched on his lap. “Yeah. Let’s go.” 

\--

Baekhyun had still been dirty when he had explained what had happened to Minseok. It was important, he had said, to immediately give him the details, the info, the memory drive.  _ We can make progress _ , he had explained.  _ From today to tomorrow, right? In this line of work you risk it, and then you’re always quick. _

He had been convincing when talking, and made the whole situation seem like he always had everything under control. And Minseok probably knew it was bullshit, but he didn’t argue. He didn’t scold them, because he knew that day had been a victory, and they were undiscovered, and free, and back.

Chanyeol had remained quiet, observing Baekhyun as he talked. He was so expressive about it all, smiling like the cat who got the cream, and still he lied, hiding words, actions, danger. He wove the ultimate truth and small falsehoods together, careful with his words, careless in his act.

And he was so good at it all. So terrible and so bad.

He had also spoken, Chanyeol. He had told them about that Clarity guy, with his cryptic words and his red gas mask. And he wasn’t as good at shaping words, so he had let it out, perhaps, unconsciously - the flash of fear he had felt when he had talked to him, the restlessness and concern.

“We’ll be on the lookout for him, whoever he is,” Baekhyun had said. He’d sounded sure about it, like he was the one who logged into the M.O.N.S.T.E.R world, like no one could ever overpower him, or Chanyeol, or them both.

Baekhyun was always playing games. Baekhyun always pretended to do much more than he did.

“What a pain,” muttered Chanyeol. The meeting was over, he needed to sleep. He had gone to the second floor bathroom for a shower, because he also needed the dirt out, and the hot water on his limbs, and he knew that the day was over, but even then his mind wouldn’t stop spinning.

The water would help, he guessed: the murmur of the shower had always made him sleepy. So he was almost disappointed when he reached the door and heard the sound of running water. He was late; he’d have to wait.

He had already turned towards his own room when he heard the sound stop.

He tilted his head, waiting, as if he could hear any noise at the other side of the door, feel the movement. He remained there, shifting his weight from foot to foot, expecting someone to come out, but the seconds gave way to a minute and he remained there, alone in the corridor, dirty and tired but way too awake. 

“Hey, who's there?” he called, thinking  _ fuck it _ , and making his way towards the door. “Are you going out?”

No one replied, but there was a noise, and then steps and then nothing. He heard the bolt moving and the door slid open, in almost total silence. 

“Hey,” a voice called, and of course it had to be Baekhyun, because Minseok was in his office and Jongdae always went to bed early. Baekhyun, who had been as dirty as him but was now clean, hair damp, dressed in an old black t-shirt and sweatpants and looking up at him, a black eyebrow raised. “I was keeping the bathroom for too long, uh?”

Chanyeol parted his lips, trying to go for a  _ yes _ . “Do you shower with that thing on too?” he asked instead.

Baekhyun bit the  _ thing.  _ Distracting. “The lip ring? It's waterproof.” He moved aside and into the bathroom, looking around for his belongings, that were all over the place. Chanyeol watched him wrap hang the towel from his shoulders, frown and blow to try to cast his bangs away from his eyes.  _ Too long. Those are still too long. _ “Come on in. I’m almost done.”

It wasn’t like waiting outside would have made any sense, so Chanyeol did.

“One of the heaters is broken, by the way, and apparently Jongdae used all the water in the other one before he went to bed, so if you were hoping to get a warm shower you can say bye bye to the idea,” commented Baekhyun as he wrinkled his nose at the Obelisk uniform he had been wearing before he had cleaned himself. Chanyeol walked to his side and turned the faucet on. He wasn’t exactly pleased by what he found.

_ “Shit.” _

“Yeah, that’s why I thought. Look at us, saving the day and receiving this kind of treatment in return. How unfair is that?”

“Very.”

“Well, we’ll need to talk to him about it. Us, as the young heroes of this generation.” Baekhyun looked up at him with a small smile on his lips. “I’m still amazed, though. I didn’t think you’d had it in you, that twentieth floor free fall.”

“Ah. Yeah.” Chanyeol remembered the air, he did, and the speed. The empty space all around. He remembered the way Baekhyun himself had jumped into it all, not even doubting. It wasn't a matter of trust, he though: Baekhyun lived for the danger. But still he had done it, and his fingers had been warm.  


“Good work, about that,” the boy told him, bangs falling all over his eyes again as he sighed and turned around. Chanyeol didn’t let him. He didn’t even know why he did it, but he stopped him mid-step, one hand on his chest. The skin of Baekhyun’s neck was still damp, and he could hear the damn water running, running, running. Baekhyun raised his eyebrows. “What?”

His voice was soft, slightly amused. Chanyeol shouldn’t have done that. He stared, mind blank, heart going into overdrive.

Baekhyun’s expression remained neutral. “Well?” he whispered. “I thought that you had made it clear, that you didn’t want me? Is this about that?”

Chanyeol was too tired, and too weak, and a little too awake now. “I--” he started, then abruptly stopped when one of Baekhyun’s fingers went to his chest. He moved it up and down, slowly, pressing just hard enough for Chanyeol to feel the tip of his fingernail across the fabric of his clothes.

“So what did it?” he asked. “Is this where me telling you you did good was going to lead?” 

Baekhyun was so fucking annoying. He was the thorn on his side, digging in, digging in. But he had been warm when they had jumped into the stairwell together, and he was speaking at that same moment, and Chanyeol’s throat had gone dry because of the things he’d said.

“I just--  _ No,” _ he protested, but he kissed him anyway, because his mind was reeling, his heart was hammering in his chest and he  _ did _ want him. And Baekhyun let him grab him by the waist and went all soft in his arms, so still. He was all warm, but the piercing on his lip was cold, wet with spit.

Chanyeol’s heart skipped a beat, and he moved back, just a bit. Baekhyun was smiling. “Good to know,” he said. His expression shifted, suddenly, into a feral grin, and his hands were in Chanyeol’s hair, fingers tangled into his faded red locks, pulling him down and towards him - a command. “But this won’t do, not just like that.”

He pushed him back, all the softness, the stillness gone, and Chanyeol barely felt the lukewarm water of the shower on him, and the slippery wall behind his back. He  _ could _ feel the flow of it on Baekhyun, though, on the damp locks of hair on his face as he bit his neck, and on the way his clothes stuck, and on the friction.

_ Ruin him, ruin him, ruin him,  _ that little voice in his mind screamed. And he wanted to do it so bad as Baekhyun’s hands went under his shirt to sink his nails in his chest and scratch. As he tried to kiss him again and Baekhyun bit his lip so hard that he could have drawn blood - maybe even did.

“Ssssh, that was fun,” he whispered against his ear, hands moving fast, keeping Chanyeol’s own against the tile wall. “But that’s all you’re getting. You rejected me, right? I can’t be offering myself all the time just like that.”

_ “But--” _ Chanyeol whimpered, then keened when the other boy bit the lobe. He was bent forward. He couldn’t breathe. He was panting, and hard, and Byun fucking Baekhyun hadn’t even touched him.

“Clean yourself and calm down, huh? I’ll be going to my room. If you want something, you can be a good boy and visit me, yes? To ask for it.”

_ Ruin him, _ the little voice in Chanyeol’s head said.  _ But maybe you’re ruined yourself, aren’t you?  _ He could clearly hear the challenge in Baekhyun’s voice. The  _ you won’t do it, I bet you won’t. _

He was soaked, and horny, and exhausted, and he let out a shaky breath as Baekhyun turned around and left, eyes the color of quicksilver as he glanced at him one last time before closing the door after himself.

And it would have probably been the best option, for Chanyeol to seek for his own release, and then use that chance to go back to his room, with the sore thrum of dissatisfaction under his skin and Baekhyun’s name on his lips, but he hadn’t been made for defeat. If the little bastard wanted to have the last word, then he could get them all.

Enough was enough, and he didn't want to think about whether to give in or not anymore.

Baekhyun was a human disgrace, but he was fucking pretty. Everything about him was - his eyes, his hands, his skin, the curve of his shoulders and the liquid grace of his movements. The way his lips parted was pretty as hell, when Chanyeol walked into his room without knocking barely ten minutes after. He looked slightly surprised under the yellowish light of the corridor, smug when Chanyeol closed the door and the pale grey glow of the Dome night was all that was left.

“So?” he asked, the word hanging, heavy, in the silence between them.

“ _ You _ .” Chanyeol started. He swallowed. Baekhyun was getting close, and he needed to say it, because he knew Baekhyun would request him to. “I want you to want me.”

The boy looked up at him, head tilted, smile all too knowing. “I suppose that can be arranged.”

Resistance wouldn’t get him anywhere. Domination would neither. A controlled surrender could, and he knew that, but he felt anything but under control when Baekhyun’s hand went under his shirt first, then into his pants.

Baekhyun was pretty, deceivingly so, and his fingers were too warm, warm,  _ warm _ on him. He knew what he was doing, he knew how to do it, and Chanyeol felt his own body wrapping himself around him, hands tangling in the fabric of Baekhyun’s black shirt, breath hitching against Baekhyun’s own skin.

“You’re--” he started.

“It wasn’t that hard, now was it? And you’re staying tonight.” Baekhyun’s other hand was on his hair, pulling but not quite, bringing him down towards him, lips on ear. “Just for fun, eh, baby boy?”

Chanyeol shuddered, a shaky whimper leaving his lips, and Baekhyun just smiled - even if Chanyeol couldn’t see him, even if his eyes were already losing focus and Baekhyun’s body was too close, he knew that he was.

“What? Does me calling you that turn you on?”

“Doesn’t,” Chanyeol protested, but it wasn’t like he could be very convincing with Baekhyun's hand stroking him inside his pants, so slow, oh so slow, like he wanted him to say it and confess. He stopped then, touch still warm, second hand releasing his hair. Chanyeol could feel him there too, still, with the numb heaviness of a ghost limb.

“My, my, aren’t we kinky.”

“Like you weren’t the one who offered… to suck me off in the middle of the street.”

Baekhyun chuckled. “It’s just meant for unwinding. Sex.” He squeezed, then, and  _ pulled _ , and Chanyeol was forced to follow when he took a step back, lips frantically looking for the pulse in Baekhyun’s neck. He felt a brutal, raw delight when Baekhyun hissed and tensed against him, animalistic, untamed and looking for friction when Chanyeol’s hands went for his ass.

_ Hot, so hot, too hot. _

They fell on the bed, a tangle of limbs, Baekhyun laughing and Chanyeol not caring at all. It was stupid, trying to convince himself that he hadn’t wanted that, because Baekhyun sounded like a screamer and he was living for the noise, to the point where he almost ripped off his clothes when he could get his hands on him. The boy was fit under his shirt and pants, thinner than Chanyeol but still strong enough to offer resistance when he was pressed against the mattress, wallowing in his own nakedness and with the eyes of a bird of prey. He was the worst kind of obscene - cunning, conscious, aware of what he caused.

“You’re not gonna take that off, are you.” Chanyeol panted against Baekhyun’s lips. The boy arched his back, a clean curve, to kiss him on the mouth and bite his bottom lip, the ring at the center wet with saliva, warmed by Baekhyun’s pulse, and Chanyeol’s breath. He dragged Chanyeol down, teeth on delicate skin, until the boy had to inhale him to speak. “That piercing thing.”

“Told you I never do. In any situation.” 

“Not even for this,” Chanyeol murmured. Baekhyun fastened the chains that hung from his mouth to one of the piercing in his ear when he was not wearing clothes, he had learned, and still they were too long and rested over the skin of his neck, the crook where his collarbones met. That boy was made of white and black and silver, and Chanyeol found out that he wanted red on him, crimson marks and purple bruises, blooming like flowers, ruby scratches like threads on his skin. He was hard and Baekhyun was too, but the boy was looking at him through half-lidded grey eyes and just letting him  _ do. _ “Not for anyone...right?”.

Baekhyun chuckled again, like he was the most endearing thing. He was supposed to be immobilized, held still under him but he shifted and Chanyeol gasped as he was suddenly the one to be trapped, with a very naked and very smiley Baekhyun kneeling between his legs.

“So do you really think I play around that often?” he said, way too kind, way too soft, fingers trailing on the skin of his stomach, featherlike. He wasn’t doing a thing, not at all, not yet. “Answer me, yes?”

“You don’t?”

“Not that much. I have people to hunt.” Baekhyun placed his hand on Chanyeol’s knee, wetted his lips. “But when I do…” He grinned, bangs falling all over his eyes. Then, he bent forward, and took Chanyeol - the whole of him - into his mouth.

_ “Bythedream--”  _ the boy half moaned, half screamed.

He still had that fucking piercing on. He still had it and Chanyeol should have minded but even if he tried he couldn't  _ think.  _ Baekhyun was obscene and he knew it, precisely because he was aware at how good he was, at when to go slow and when fast, when to press his tongue, when to suck so Chanyeol was left hanging, staring at the ceiling without seeing a thing. He turned his head to the side of the pillow, hands grasping the sheets because he didn't know what he'd do if he grabbed Baekhyun, if he touched him. He remembered then, that first time when they had met, that last time when he had rejected the boy in that alley at Fifth. It all was a frenzied mess in his head, and he wondered what he would have said if they had know they were going to end up like this anyway - if he would have still said yes, or no, or cared at all. 

“Eyes on me, baby boy,” Baekhyun told him depriving him on purpose when he was  _ so close _ and he should have whined and protested but his breath hitched and his whole body snapped. It was the voice, it had been the words and the tone, and a very desperate part of his brain prayed for Baekhyun to not have noticed it, but of course the boy was close, and of course he was watching. “So it _does_ turn you on,” he said, voice flat. “Just how much?”

“That’s not--”

Baekhyun actually shushed him, bending over until he was over him, face to face, and pressing a pretty finger against his lips. “Ssssh, you were so convinced, right? Of me going around and fucking everyone. But that’s not it, you see? I’m just fucking you. Since you came to ask for it nicely.”

“You’re having so much fun, aren’t you?” Chanyeol managed to whisper, though Baekhyun’s finger was still over his mouth.

“Am I not allowed? You must be tired, after all that you did today, huh? So I’ll take care of you.”

Chanyeol’s breath was shallow, messy, burning his lungs as he tried to focus. Baekhyun was dangerous, and hot as fuck. Everything he did, he did to crash and burn and control - a catastrophe. And still, he didn’t care. It was the voice, still the voice, and he didn’t mind the disaster. “I don’t know if I can trust you about that,” he tried to protest.

“You’re my teammate. I’m offended.”

“Like hell you a--” Chanyeol’s words were interrupted by a moan - an unwilling sound, from his traitor mouth when Baekhyun’s fingers slipped into it. Again, it wasn’t the intrusion per se: it was the act; Baekhyun’s pretty, pretty fingers being very, very obscene.

There were three of them in by the boy went to whisper to his ear again. “It’s  _ crimson _ ,” he told him.

“W-what?” Chanyeol’s lips were coated with saliva, and so were Baekhyun’s fingers as they descended down his jaw, his neck, his chest. He closed eyes as Baekhyun chuckled once more, and it was the most attractive sound he’d ever heard.

“Safeword.”

“Safeword? Why...?”

Baekhyun was back between his legs, and he traced wet circles on his inner thigh before placing one of them on his shoulder. “You know,” he said. “In case you’re in danger.”

Crimson, he had said. Crimson red, like energy blasts, like all those Old Era myths, like the leather jacket Baekhyun had worn when they had met and like the parallel lines of scratches along his back. Chanyeol had expected bright red pain, to some extent (because Byun Sigma Baekhyun was known to be the devil and he had gone there asking for him to do his worst) but he had found himself only with the usual shade of a dull burn.

He spoke to him, however. Even with his lips red and his eyes dark and his hair all damp with sweat, he had time to talk.

“Look at you, so pretty,” he said, and Chanyeol’s nails dug into his shoulders, deep. He shouldn’t have been so turned on, he didn’t want to be so turned on but-- “Baby boy, relax. It’s not like we’re here to hurt you, right?”

Chanyeol still thought Baekhyun would go hardcore, almost wanted it to be that way, but his whole body reacted at the words, so violently that he thought he would come right then and there. He realized, barely a second after, when Baekhyun buried his face in the crook of his neck, that his whole body had clenched at the words, at the impact of them, and that the other boy was panting, visibly so.

“Fuck,” he heard him grunt.

“Stop the teasing and move, will you?”

He felt the pressure, already coiling in his guts, he felt the heat, and Baekhyun’s lips as he found the pulse in his neck. He was far too gone and he whimpered, voice breaking, seeking both friction and release. He had been so close the first time, was so close now, and almost screamed when Baekhyun bit his skin, where neck and shoulder met. “Don’t come, not before me.”

“Seriously, f--”

Crimson, crimson red. It fitted them somehow. It was the color of Baekhyun’s lips on the pulse on his neck and of the blood throbbing below Chanyeol’s skin. It was as bright as the trail his mouth left on him, as deceivingly warm as the things he said. He would be soothing, that boy, with words in his ear and fingers on his neck, but he was also the kind to kiss with a weapon on his lips.

Surrendering to the blade was a thing, but expecting it not to hurt you was nothing alike. He knew that, he had been aware since the moment he had walked in and expected all that to be just a quick romp - the action of just giving up because Baekhyun wanted and he wanted and he wouldn’t be able to think straight until he’d taken that boy out of his system - but they’d found a rhythm somehow, and it was as vivid red as everything else. He heard a voice and realized it was his, begging out loud for release as the boy above him grinded into the heat. He sounded so needy, lips forming the kind of words he couldn’t control, that would have made him feel ashamed if it wasn’t for the fact that he  _ didn’t care. _

“You’re being so good,” Baekhyun panted, forehead against forehead, mouth hovering over his. “Good boy. Legs wider. Just like that.”

Chanyeol was going to protest, but Baekhyun’s pretty, pretty fingers pressed into the skin of his neck. He wasn’t applying enough force to cut the flow of air into his lungs, but it was sufficient for him to feel them  _ there _ , rooting him in place, the lightheadedness growing into a shiver born from the point where they were connected. He arched his back from the mattress and into the curve of Baekhyun’s body, feeling viciously victorious as the latter gasped and panted and let out a long, loud moan, wet lips sliding across his jaw until they came to rest again in the crook of his neck.

_ Good boy,  _ Baekhyun had said, and he kept, kept,  _ kept _ the words in his head as he tried to reach down and between them, towards his own unattended erection. He was almost grazing it when Baekhyun’s fingers left his throat and grabbed him by the wrist, pushing his hand up and away.

_ “Why,”  _ Chanyeol muttered. It sounded a bit too much like a plea.

Baekhyun grinned down at him, eyes very grey and teeth all white. “Untouched, baby boy.”

Chanyeol’s breath hitched. He feel lightheaded by the sudden return of air, like he was getting much more than he could take. “Fuck you,” he managed to say, then he literally screamed when Baekhyun pushed in harder, snapping his hips into him as to prove a point.

“I don’t think that’s how it goes tonight.”

It felt like torture, the denial, but the shivers that came with it were bliss. It was all Baekhyun - it was his face above him as his lips parted and his rhythm started to falter. He had soft features, that boy, and it was so impossibly obscene to think that someone so beautiful could look so dirty while lost in pleasure, with his lips parted and trembling and his eyes so silver dark, standing out as the singular fake trait in a face so strikingly human.

The metal chain of Baekhyun’s lip ring was still dangling between them, from the boy’s mouth to his ear, and Chanyeol blindly reached for it, not thinking, tangling his fingers around it and pulling down. Baekhyun’s breath audibly hitched and he groaned, curling his lip and baring his teeth and tossing his face down and to the side.

It felt like too much all of a sudden - the stagnant air and the heat in the room and the hard, erratic rhythm and Baekhyun’s face - and he had to close his eyes and looked away, voice breaking. There were fingers on his face after that, tips shaking but grip firm.

“What did I tell you before?” Baekhyun said. “Eyes on me, Park Chanyeol.”

And it  _ was _ too much. It was Baekhyun’s face, the sweaty mess of him, and it was his name above all, the  _ way _ he said it, twisting it into a secret between them. He couldn’t look away - he wasn’t allowed to - and when the orgasm came, washing all over him like a wave of liquid fire, he didn’t even try to resist it. It surged all over him, body stopping to respond, vision going from grey to white, and he was both barely conscious and overly sensitive of Baekhyun following him suit, riding his own wave into him and sinking his teeth into the junction between his shoulder and neck.

He had come just like Baekhyun had wanted him to - untouched, completely so - and he didn’t know if he should be proud of that, or ashamed because of how  _ easy _ it has been. He closed his eyes, trying to catch his breath.

“See, Zero?” Baekhyun told him, pulling out, and brushing the damp hair from Chanyeol’s forehead when he grunted in complaint. He sounded amused, but there was no bite in his voice. “You can be really lovely when you want to.”

Chanyeol opened one eye. “ _Fuck off_.”

Baekhyun had that kind of expression in his face, that clearly said that he wanted to add something else but was fighting with the urge to do so. “You look tired,” he finally stated, and Chanyeol would have raised his eyebrows at him because  _ don’t you say  _ if just his body hadn’t felt so heavy. “Hey, are you going to sleep on my bed? You’re dirty, you know?”

He still seemed to be having fun. Chanyeol opened his eye again, to glare. “I had just fucking showered. Your fault.”

Baekhyun snorted. “Right.”

“I just… Only five minutes, okay?” Chanyeol muttered, and he was sure Baekhyun had actually replied, but he closed his eyes and curled on his side and suddenly all was dark and warm and he didn’t care anymore.

\---

He woke up at the break of dawn, for one of those brief moments of clarity between consciousness and sleep, and found himself in a room that wasn’t his, covered by a duvet and with a boy all still beside him, eyes closed and lips parted as he inhaled, asleep.

He thought that it was so strange, then, that that boy was sleeping in his own room but still had his brow frown and his fingers clasping the sheets. It was funny, he pondered, closing his eyes again with a sigh, because Baekhyun had told him he used sex to unwind, and yet his breath was too shallow and his knuckles were almost bone white.

_ Weird,  _ he thought. _ Aren't you weird? Baekhyun. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this is it for the moment!
> 
> AND a lot of stuff happened, both for the plot and for ZeroSigma, so I hope you're excited for what comes next! (also, that's 1/2 of the "explicit" (lol) sex scenes this fic is going to have, which means my mind can be in peace and write more implied stuff for some time before I fall again into the despair pit of explicit dirty)
> 
> also praisekinkishstuffiamsorry
> 
> But anyway, as always please send a lot of love and support in the comments. and if you have any further question, here's my:
> 
> Tumblr: https://baby-yeol.tumblr.com/  
> Twitter: https://twitter.com/babyeoI  
> CuriousCat: https://curiouscat.me/babyeol
> 
> See you again around the first week of October for Login 10! :D


	11. Login 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, hello again! It took me three days too much, but here we are with the next Codename chapter. This one has been... a bit longer than I expected in regards to total wc, but I hope you enjoy it :D
> 
> Also, lots of thanks to M for beta-ing this :D

**Login 10**

 

Chanyeol woke up to light on his eyelids and heaviness on his limbs. He groaned, covering his face with the back of his hand and turning to his side before peeking through his fingers. 

The first thing he saw was Baekhyun’s sleeping face.

_ Eh?  _ He looked strangely harmless, with his hair falling on his face and the sunlight softening the edges of his skin. There was something inherently soft about him, something delicate and fragile, a little right and a little wrong, warmness and peace there but broken by the way his brow furrowed and his lips moved in some sort of soundless plea. His mouth looked soft, slightly moist, but even as he slept he had his lip chain on, a foreign metallic presence like a silver snake on his skin. Chanyeol vaguely wondered if he always slept with that thing on, before asking himself what kind of problem he had, to be dreaming about a naked Baekhyun in his bed.

He blinked and tried to move… only to find himself grimacing. He was  _ sore _ , overall, like someone had run over him with a truck. He closed his eyes, trying to remember what the hell he had done to feel like a man who had just jumped from the 20th floor. Then it all came back to him and he realized that he  _ had.  _ He had tied a makeshift harness around his waist and jumped into a stairwell. He had fought Commander Wu and his mob of angry army men. He had escaped a government Level 3 Security building by hiding into an organic disposal container and he had blown it up with a gun to avoid a trip to the garbage incinerator. He had gone into M.O.N.S.T.E.R and Broken for confidential data; and he had succeeded, and given it to Minseok. And after that…

_ Eh? Wait, wait, wait, what?  _ He had closed his eyes again so he opened one - and Baekhyun was still there, long fingers clutching the sheets between them. He looked around, trying not to move too much, and Baekhyun wasn’t still going anywhere and that place definitely wasn’t his room and the blurriness in his mind was starting to fade and  _ oh, crap. _

He had had the wonderful idea of putting an end to the tension between them. He didn’t know if it had been a good or a terrible choice - that was on Baekhyun, he guessed. But there he was, in his teammate’s bed the morning after, because he had been dumb enough not to leave and said teammate hadn’t kicked him out, and now he didn’t know how to graciously escape the situation to keep it as cool as it should be?

_ Well, it’s easy, Park. You just get up quietly, grab your clothes and walk-of-shame the hell back into your room, where you can reconcile with the fact of yourself being into some kinky sex shit. Well yeah, it sounds like a plan. _

Or at least it sounded like a possibility, so he stole a last look at Baekhyun before attempting to sit. Boy, was he pretty when he wasn’t trying his best at being an asshole. He kept mumbling in his sleep too, shoulders stiff and eyes closed.  _ Nightmare?  _ he thought, but it was not his business, so he just sat and looked around, trying to locate his clothes. It wasn’t hard to locate them on the floor, on the way to the door; Chanyeol had managed to make his own room look like a mess in the weeks he’d been there, but Baekhyun’s was unexpectedly empty. He had guns on his desk, which seemed in character, next to a pile of closed notebooks, which seemed odd, but besides that there wasn’t much else.

_ Not exactly your business,  _ he reminded himself again. With a sigh, he went to stand… only to gasp when fingers closed around his wrist.

“Hey,” a voice called him, low and just a little hoarse. “Zero.”

_ Oh, fuck. _ When he turned around, Baekhyun was staring at him, grey eyes veiled and lips parted. “Good morning,” Chanyeol said, because it was the only logical thing he could come up with. “I... woke you up?”

“It’s not hard to wake me up. Light sleeper,” Baekhyun muttered. He still sounded dozy, even though his touch was firm on his wrist. “What time is it?”

“I don’t know.” Chanyeol looked down at Baekhyun, then at the window. The sun was bursting in, and the opaque glass of the Dome was yellowish-white. “Noon?”

“So it’s late. I overslept.”

“Well, after yesterday…”

Baekhyun had sounded almost upset at himself, but he smiled then, lips curling in a smirk. “Yesterday, huh? You okay?”

“I-- Yeah. I’m fine. Tired?”

At that, Baekhyun laughed. “Even after sleeping for what, ten hours?” The little bastard was stronger than he seemed, and he pulled from Chanyeol’s wrist until he had dragged him over his body and was looking at him from below. He moved his hand then, until his fingers where ghosting over the pulse on his neck. “I didn't think you'd come.” He looked at him in the eye, then down, and then wrapped his legs around Chanyeol’s waist, bringing him closer. He was soft, and warm, and acted all lazy. “Didn't think you'd stay to invade my space either.”

Chanyeol’s morning was being a continuous succession of  _ oh, craps _ , but it wasn't like he could complain about that one. Baekhyun could be annoying, but he was hot as hell and he wasn't going to marry him, anyway. So he should flirt back, maybe. “I didn't have anything better to do, I guess?”

Baekhyun’s hands were on his chest. “Ah, but I have suggestions. Of things you could in fact be doing.”

“Like what?”

“Me?”

Blinking, Chanyeol looked down at the other boy. He had thought he - himself - would have had enough after the night before, but his breath still hitched and his body still reacted like he was seventeen and way too easy to impress. Baekhyun didn’t offer resistance at all when his hands were pressed against the mattress, Chanyeol’s bigger fingers over the pulse on his wrists.

“You’re terrible,” whispered Chanyeol.

“And you’re not that tired anymore, I assume?” replied Baekhyun with a smile, turning all soft against him. It was a lie, and Chanyeol knew that. Baekhyun wasn’t exactly the soft type, ever, not even when he slept. His skin could be smooth, and his fingers could be delicate, but everything beneath the surface was ice and steel. Baekhyun was a liar, and he was one over all things when there was something he wanted, but Chanyeol could choose to believe and he did, kissing along his jaw to hear him hum and sigh.

“Not for this,” he muttered. “Not for this.”

His original plan of going back to his bedroom and wondering how much of a bad idea had all that been was instantly lost somewhere between Baekhyun’s lips and the way his eyelashes fluttered closed when he was kissed while still being sleepy, and suddenly staying there for the whole afternoon seemed like a perfectly well-earned reward for not dying.

Baekhyun had dark bruises on his neck, and he let out the tiniest gasp when Chanyeol’s lips grazed the skin. He arched his back, just slightly.

Then someone knocked at the door,  _ hard _ , and Baekhyun groaned.

“Sigma!” someone called, in a loud voice that took Chanyeol a couple of seconds to register. Jongdae. “Sigma, aren’t you going to wake up?”

Baekhyun let out a sigh. “Not available!” he exclaimed back, as he rolled his eyes at Chanyeol, who was still atop of him and pretty much frozen. “Come back in a couple of hours and I might consider talking to you!”

“A couple of hours my ass! Sigma, you're always so--” There was a noise at the other side of the door, and Chanyeol barely had time to let out a very undignified squeaking noise and half remove himself from atop Baekhyun before it opened and Jongdae actually came marching in. “Oh,” he said, with a voice that was a bit too neutral. And then, “ _ oh. _ ”

Talk about being epically cockblocked. Talk about wanting to crawl into a hole outside of the Dome and wait for the toxic air to take him. Chanyeol couldn’t see Jongdae’s face, maybe because he was facing away from him  _ on purpose  _ \- but he could still see Baekhyun raising his eyebrows to infinity.

“I told you I wasn’t available,” he said. “Why did you come in?”

“I always come in, even when you don’t give me permission. I was only trying to wake you up, so I just-- What are you guys even  _ doing?” _ Chanyeol turned around to face him with a half-incredulous, half-embarrassed groan. Baekhyun actually huffed at him. “I didn’t mean it literally! I didn’t think you got along that well.”

Baekhyun sat up on the bed, covers sliding down his chest, hair all messy. He shrugged. “We’re bonding.”

“Yeah, I see. More like... about to pound into each other but okay.”

At that, Baekhyun made a little, muffled sound that was probably supposed to demonstrate shock of some kind but that felt dangerously close to an evil snicker, and Chanyeol decided that he had had enough for that morning. “Jongdae,” he called. “Do you mind getting the fuck out of the room?” 

There was a pause, in which Jongdae’s face remained very white and very expressionless. The tip of his ears started turning suspiciously red after that. “Ah,” he said. “Ah yeah. Sorry about that. I only wanted to be a nice rebel friend and wake Sigma up, help him keep his habits and all. It wasn’t my intention to kill your mood, so um, keep at it if that’s what you--” He trailed off, shaking his head. “I’ll be around if you get tired and want to talk about the experience. Nice scratches, by the way,” he told Baekhyun, before turning around and finally leaving the place, closing the door with a click behind him.

For a moment, the room was left in absolute silence. Baekhyun was tapping his fingers on the soft skin of his own cheek, expression unreadable. “Well, that was--” he started.

“He  _ totally _ killed the mood.” Objectively speaking, Chanyeol should have been dying of embarrassment - he maybe was. But perhaps he still was a little bit high after having survived the day before, and could still feel the ghost of the wind on his face and the adrenaline pulsing in his veins like the trails of a drug when he had Broken and ran and jumped. That whole scene has been the worst of all the  _ oh crap _ situations that he had experienced that morning (and probably in his whole life) but it was so absurd and he felt to alive that he bursted out laughing.

After blinking in surprise, Baekhyun did too, falling on the pillows once more, covering his face with his fingers. “We’ll, he’ll probably feel traumatized enough once he realizes what he’s done.  _ Nice scratches _ , he said. I’m so-- He’s totally going to tell Minseok, and Minseok is totally going to scold him.”

“I don’t know how I feel about Jongdae talking with my technically-boss about this.”

“Sorry to tell you, but you should have bolted the door when you came in.”

Chanyeol opened his eyes all wide, as Baekhyun laughed and buried his face in the pillows. “Do you really think I had the mental capacity to think about bolting doors when I came in?”

“Not really, no.” Baekhyun looked like he clearly had something else to say, but in the end he turned towards Chanyeol and grinned. “I'm not gonna complain when I didn't either, baby boy.”

“You're not going to stop with the baby boy thing, are you?”

Baekhyun raised his eyebrows, all innocent, like a kid who had just stolen a jar of cookies and was hiding his chocolate-stained hands behind his back. “Why should I?” 

“Because it's… tainted after last night,” replied Chanyeol with a grimace. 

“Oh, come on, it was tainted from the very start.” Baekhyun himself had said he used sex to unwind, and Chanyeol wasn’t sure if that part had worked, but at least the amusement in his voice had no bite to it. “I’m keeping the knowledge of what it does to you for special occasions, though. It might lose effect if you get used to it, you know.”

His usual grace was fully back as Baekhyun got up from the bed with a tiny sigh in all of his naked glory. Daylight painted his skin is soft silvers and yellows, and even if that boy had been carved by night and outlined by the hard flashes of the Dome neon reds, greens and blues, he wondered vaguely how he would look under Old Era golden.

Not even in M.O.N.S.T.E.R there was a moon, nor a sun, nor a sky.

“I still can’t believe that you came just like that,” Baekhyun commented, bending down to get Chanyeol’s pants from the floor to throw them at him across the room. And it wasn’t that Chanyeol was ogling or anything, but he had a nice ass. Not like he hadn’t noticed before, but one had to check.

“You already said that before.  _ And _ you were the one who invited me in.”

Baekhyun stared at him and snickered, a creature of all evils. “I wasn’t talking about my room this time.”

“Wha--  _ Ah. _ ” He was maybe blushing. Chanyeol hoped he wasn’t blushing. He was a bit annoyed as well. At himself. And at Baekhyun’s legendary shit-eating grin as well. “Do we need to talk about that?”

“We’re not that close for that, huh?”

“We’re not that close.”

“You hurt me. First you don’t trust me, then you don’t want to be my friend. What do I have to do to convince you to like me?” He had grabbed Chanyeol’s black sweater from the floor and stared at it intently, before shrugging and putting it on himself. The thing was oversized enough for Chanyeol and literally dwarfed him, sleeves too long, hood big enough to hide his eyes. He uncovered his head and combed his hair with his fingers. “I like this one.”

The hoodie was long enough to reach Baekhyun’s mid-thigh. “That’s mine,” croaked Chanyeol.

“Thank you for the insight, Zero boy, I hadn’t realized. What’s wrong? Do you want it back?”

Yes.  _ No.  _ Maybe him walking around in that wasn’t a terrible idea. Or perhaps, and precisely, it was - Baekhyun and good ideas weren’t exactly compatible. “I don’t own that many clothes, you know.”

“Oh well. I already lost my morning so you know,” The boy was leaning against the door. He stood in silence for a moment, eyes half-lidded and silver dark, then moved his fingers to the bolt, that snapped shut with a sharp, metallic noise. “You could work hard to persuade me.”

“So that’s how it’s going to go?”

Baekhyun walked back to him. The bed dipped under his weight. Pretty kid he was, as pretty in sunlight as he was in the dark. “Are you complaining?”

They didn't fit, Chanyeol thought. He was the kind of person who had spent his whole life threading across a labyrinth made of crystal, divided between saving himself and breaking it, breaking it all. Baekhyun was made of steel and surrounded by glass, a living weapon that wouldn't care about a thing. They didn't fit, and perhaps that was part of the appeal - the clash and the splinters and the appeal of watching something crack. 

Maybe Baekhyun had been right when they had met, and Chanyeol did have a thing for acts of rebellion. Especially when they were kneeling before him, hands on his shoulders, and had his clothes on. 

“No complains at all.”

\--

Baekhyun was finally persuaded (he said so himself, for proof) but kept Chanyeol’s sweater anyway, just because he loved to be annoying. “I'll give it back to you next time. I'll wash it for you and all.”

They both knew that Baekhyun wasn't going to wash a thing. “So… is there going to be a next time?”

“You don't want it to be?”

Chanyeol was already dressed, watching Baekhyun’s back as he finished putting his pants on. He could still feel the exhaustion in his bones, but it was tiredness of the good kind, the one that left your body sated and your mind calm instead of draining you to the core. “I'm not the one who's in the middle of a crusade to avenge the lost love of his life. I don't know how you handle this kind of stuff.”

Baekhyun turned around with a snort. “Come on, Zero boy, you were doing fine. Don't make it all awkward.” He shook his head, hair still messy and damp from the shower they had just taken. “Told you before, this and that are different things. I had a great time, yesterday and today. So what's the problem in meeting, if you enjoyed it too? Unless you develop painful and unrequited feelings for me in your heart, you should be fine.”

The scoff that came from Chanyeol’s mouth would have probably offended anyone - or at least anyone else. “For  _ you. _ ”

“Doesn't really seem plausible, considering that you look like you want to punch me most of the time, but…”

So Baekhyun had known that being his usual grade A asshole self was making him mad. Obviously he knew. “Ah, I totally would.”

“What? Fall for me?”

“Punch you. Sometimes.”

The other boy laughed. “But I was making the effort to be nice. And even though you still want to hit me?”

“Slightly. When you say that, especially.” Chanyeol snorted again when Baekhyun mumbled something that sounded suspiciously similar to  _ such brutality _ , and turned to look around as the boy finished dressing. There was one single poster on the wall, a big map of the Dome that had probably been Obelisk white and black and grey once upon a time, but had faded into dull pale shades after being hung for so long. Chanyeol’s gaze drifted towards it for a moment - to the place they were, and where his old apartment has been, to the Ward where his mother and sister lived and to the busy streets around Black Light - then dropped down to the notebooks on the table. They were black and white, and red too; typical convenience store ones, cheap and worn. “What are those?” he asked. “Do you keep a diary?”

At the other side of the tiny room, Baekhyun had finally finished dressing. He walked towards Chanyeol, barefoot and tying the chains connected to his lip ring to the collar of his t-shirt, and stood beside him, biting on the small metal piece almost disinterestedly. “Do I seem like the type to keep a diary?” he asked, proceeding to reply to himself before Chanyeol could even speak. “I told you, right? That I painted landscapes, sometimes, and had a scholarship and all.”

He had. The whole story had also sounded pretty much like Baekhyun getting creative with his bullshit. “You said you  _ used _ to paint.”

“I would hardly call that painting. It’s just doodling, in old notebooks, with a pen.”

It still sounded… strange, and it still wasn’t his business, but even though Chanyeol had to ask. “Can I see?”

“Ah, you want to? Maybe one day if you’re good and give me something nice in exchange. How about that?” He drifted off, eyes on the window, fingers tapping on the red cover of the notebook atop the pile. “We used the whole morning, huh. Also missed lunchtime.”

“Hungry?”

“Not really. Just wondering how I should use up the rest of my training day. Our dear Leader hasn’t come to bother us, so I’m guessing he won’t require my presence.”

Chanyeol sighed. That was his cue to go back to his room, he guessed, until Minseok called or Baekhyun called or he was feeling frustrated again and wanted company. They didn’t need to talk, that was the good part about it. “Go to the training room?”

Baekhyun parted his lips, looking very bored. “Tired.”

“Go for a walk?”

“Still tired.”

“Shoot practice, then?”

“Aren’t you going?”

“I don’t think so. I’ve had enough guns for a lifetime.” Chanyeol grimaced and Baekhyun snickered, hand finally limp on the desk and eyes on him. “I think I’ll do M.O.N.S.T.E.R instead.”

“Oh, I see.” He paused, blinking slowly, then smiled. “Hey, why don’t you take me with you?”

That, Chanyeol had guessed, was going to be the moment he returned to his room, then went down to the kitchen to eat and then he trained (by himself). But Baekhyun was observing him, a silent challenge in his smile and the tiniest bit of curiosity in his eyes and he hesitated. “But I thought you had never played?” he asked, rather dumbly.

“Yeah, but I also told you I wanted to learn from a pro. Aren’t you a pro? I just… feel like trying. I’m used to guns. It can’t be that difficult.”

“It  _ is  _ difficult. Let me tell you it doesn’t feel the same. Like, at all.”

Baekhyun shrugged, lips parting in a wide grin, all teeth. He was terrible, absolutely so, even when he was more playful than actively trying to be a little shit. “Well then,” he said. “You're up for it?”

\--

“Okay, so how do I do this?” said Baekhyun, munching on his energy bar.

He was sitting on one of the chairs of the computer room, silver IVR visor on his lap as Chanyeol turned the computer on. They had stopped to eat something before they walked into that place, and it wasn’t like Chanyeol himself had many time or will to prepare something decent for himself but-- “I still can’t believe you keep a whole stash of instant food in the cupboard under the sink.”

“Because you never looked there, or never asked,” Baekhyun told him, rather cheerfully. “A man has to eat, and I’m usually very hungry.”

“Yeah, and if this building collapsed on your head you would be able to survive for four or five months with that much food.” The computer screen flashed blue and Chanyeol was met with the M.O.N.S.T.E.R public servers login menu.

“I would, as long as I also got water. And a kettle or something.”

“Do you… Have you ever cooked something in your life? Like, for yourself?”

Baekhyun shrugged. “I microwave stuff, occasionally.”

The music of the M.O.N.S.T.E.R initial menu could already be heard through the embedded speakers of the visor Chanyeol was holding. “How haven’t you died yet?” he whispered.

“I am too stubborn.”

“Yeah.”

“The Obelisk hasn’t managed to shot me down, Zero boy. You shouldn’t entrust the task to a cup of instant noodles. Or to a lot of them for that matter.” He leaned forward on the chair, eyes shifting for the screen to Chanyeol’s face and he grinned, quick and kitten-like in a gesture that lightened up his face in amusement. “And anyway, it’s not like you have much to say. You poured suspicious looking sauce onto suspicious looking food and told me you were cooking.”

“At least I  _ made _ the suspicious looking food!”

“So you can die from your own poison? Like that was much of an improvement.”

“It tastes nice. And it’s healthy.”

“Yeah, you just need to work on the looks. And the fact that half of it was kind of burnt.” Baekhyun finished munching and kept the envelope in his pocket while Chanyeol simply looked at it, eyebrows risen so high that they were completely hidden under his bangs. He was used to messy people - he was friends with  _ Kim Junmyeon _ , for the Dream’s sake - but even though Baekhyun kept his room tidy, Chanyeol had never met someone with such an absolute disregard of basic diet habits. “But anyway, I didn’t come here to tell you that being a chef is nowhere close in your Destiny chart. Wasn’t I here to show you that I own this game?” Baekhyun tapped his fingers on the smooth silvery surface of the visor on his lap. “So? How do I kill people here? Do I get to create a cool character?”

_ So those are your two top priorities there?  _ Literally everyone and their cousin played M.O.N.S.T.E.R, so it had been  _ years _ since Chanyeol had needed to be in the character creation screen. People made one avatar, then stayed with it - they modified it, perhaps, but the base was always there. Baekhyun had never had one. He was the only person he knew that hadn’t logged into the game, ever, not even for giving it a try. And still he was sure he was going to own it.

That was… going to be interesting. “Yeah. You get to make one,” he said with a smile. He turned around, holding his own visor against his chest. They were new models, good quality. “Do you know how the IVR system works?”

“You put the thing on your head and then you’re in, right? That’s what you all do; I’ve seen.”

“Not exactly. I log in automatically once the connection is stable when Breaking, but we are on the official server  _ and  _ you have no character, no weapon and no settings to log into. What body would you be in?” 

“So I don’t wear the helmet?”

“Yes.”

Baekhyun looked at him like he was trying to figure out if Chanyeol was pranking him or not. “Come on baby boy, be nice to me and explain,” he finally said with a smile. He was still wearing Chanyeol’s sweater, and he still looked hot in it. The boy vaguely wondered how long he intended to keep it and why the dark bruises on his neck were distracting.

“I, um,” he started, blatantly ignoring Baekhyun’s devilish smirk. “You need the visor to play: that’s your controller once you go past the main menu. It reacts to your brain, the orders from it, you see, but there are two phases to all this. Before you enter the game itself, you use it but your conscience stays here. You only enter full IVR mode when you get into the arena. Get it?”

Shrugging, Baekhyun put the visor on. “So I have to wear this anyway, right. That’s what I was looking forward to, even if this is just the boring part. I don’t see what’s the hype with this game, but--” The helmet covered the whole upper part of his head, but his mouth was visible when his lips parted in surprise. “Oh wow.”

“We’re still on the main menu,” said Chanyeol.

“Yeah, but I like the music. It has a very… surrounding effect. And it’s epic. Makes me want to burn one building or two.”

“Don’t tell me you haven’t heard the M.O.N.S.T.E.R main theme before. The OST is like…  _ famous _ .”

“You’re sounding like one of those really annoying nerd types just right now.” Baekhyun clicked his tongue and rested his back against the back of the chair. It was one of those professional M.O.N.S.T.E.R seats where the players were practically lying down, covered eyes facing the ceiling. They only had a good chair and of course Baekhyun had taken it - Chanyeol would deal with his own neck pains later, but in that occasion he guessed that the other boy was going to need it far more than he did. “Of course I've heard that theme music before; it's literally everywhere. But I paid it no mind. Sorry if I was training to make my body efficient instead of focusing in a game like everyone else.”

“You just sounded like a really annoying hipster type right now,” echoed Chanyeol, taking advantage of Baekhyun’s lack of vision to smile and going to his own seat before putting his visor on. The 3D menu of the game greeted him, and he moved from that to the next screen. “Listen, Baekhyun, I already configured the settings so you and I are on the same team, both in game and in voicespeak. You should be able to hear me clearly, even across your epic menu music.”

“Loud and clear I hear you, captain.” If Chanyeol hadn’t known him, he would have sworn he was hiding just the tiniest bit of excitement by calling him names.

“Well then,” he said. “I’m going to set the main options. Meanwhile you should, you know, create your avatar. Parameters depend on the weapons you have equipped, and your success is based on that and your actual level of skill, so how you’re going to look in game is for aesthetic purposes only.”

“Aha,” replied Baekhyun. He sounded absent, and Chanyeol fumbled with the options for a while. It felt good to be back, not playing to train or Breaking but just… playing, for the fun, with someone else. 

“Did you finish already?” he asked, after realizing that yeah, I was feeling good, but Baekhyun was uncharacteristically silent. “The base image is built on the perception of your own body, so you don’t even need to work on the design that much… Just make a couple of changes and you’re ready to go.”

“Um,” said Baekhyun. 

For a second, Chanyeol was really tempted to remove his visor, just to see if Baekhyun was still there. “Are you okay?” he asked instead.

“Yeah.”

“You’ve barely spoken for the last fifteen minutes. What are you doing?”

“I’m concentrated.” Baekhyun hummed to the rhythm of the music. “Can you wait until I’m done?”

“You’re… creating your avatar?”

“Yeah.”

“And can’t you hurry it?”

“Give an artist his time, Zero boy. I’m going to use this skin to destroy people, you know? Leaving an impression is important.”

“Dream be gracious, you’re only going to  _ try _ the game!”

“Ah, but you need to wait for me to start playing, don’t you?”

Baekhyun had sounded amused and Chanyeol had to swallow a groan. “I’m this close to logging out and dropping you.”

He seemed to consider it for a while. “Please?” he finally asked, lowering his voice. “Be a good boy for me?”

“You’re-- I’m logging out.”

Baekhyun’s clear outburst of laughter was too loud on his speakers. “Okay, okay. Ten minutes, please?”

There wasn’t exactly much he could do so he just wandered around the menus for five, ten, fifteen more minutes. He was getting a well deserved ego boost by checking his records in that account - he had resurrected one of the extra ones he had created for Breaking purposes and he had purposely balanced his victories with loses so he wouldn’t stand out in the ranks when he trained but still his statistics  _ were _ fair impressive - when Baekhyun’s sudden and very satisfied sigh made him jump on his seat.

“It is done!”

Chanyeol lowered the audio settings, because Baekhyun’s laughter was sounding a bit too ominous. “Your avatar?”

“My masterpiece.”

Chanyeol was starting to consider how much leather, spikes and studs had Baekhyun managed to fit into his character design to be referring at as a  _ masterpiece _ but he thought he would be much safer if he didn’t ask out loud. He was going to see the real thing soon anyway. “Did you choose a weapon to equip? You can change that later, but I would recommend getting one of the beginner-level mid range blasters. Most people start with those, they are great for adapting to the environment.”

“I see,” replied Baekhyun. “Thanks for the advice.”

There was a pause. Chanyeol could already feel the thrill in his veins, the call of M.O.N.S.T.E.R ringing its quiet buzz in the back of his head. “We’re moving to the arena now. You’ll lose consciousness here and take direct cerebral control of the avatar you just finished creating. It’s almost like dreaming. Very vividly. If you had even dreamed of shooting other people in the face while a whole virtual world tries to kill you.”

“Sounds promising enough.”

“The transition can be… tough, sometimes. Some people get dizzy when they log in for the first couple of times. Besides all of us feeling sick as hell when we are logged out, of course. You’ve seen me; it gets worse the more aggressively the server pushes you off, so try not to die much?”

Baekhyun hummed lowly. “Isn’t this game about shooting?” he asked. “Then I won’t die.”

_ Wow, confident,  _ Chanyeol though, despite himself. Then he grinned, going back to the main menu and requesting to join the game. Official servers offered a countdown, big golden numbers going from ten to zero as the music grew louder and the screen turned to black. There was a moment of silence, that last, silent breath you could take into your lungs before a free fall. After that, the IVR mode activated and  _ yeah _ , there came the pull. “Don’t be foolish,” he told Baekhyun, right before M.O.N.S.T.E.R stole his real lips, throat and ears.

Everything was black after that.

Lighter, without the weight of a real body and the beat of a real heart. Clearer, as he took a step forward and a whole new world took shape under his feet.

He was in a universe of stillness, of water and glass, of darkness, black and blue. An aquarium, fluorescent fish swimming beyond the pond walls, a low ceiling covering the lack of a night sky. 

“Oh, wow. This feels so… realistic,” a second voice called, laced with electrostatic.

It had been a while since Chanyeol has logged into the game with a teammate he knew, and a newbie on top of that. All the arena fights he had joined for training had been ranked, randomized parties, of the kind where they all went hard and fast, introducing themselves, sharing scores, organizing their team to win. The average M.O.N.S.T.E.R game lasted from fifteen to thirty minutes, and players were on edge from beginning to end. This login was… different.

“Impressive, huh?” he said.

The thing with M.O.N.S.T.E.R was that it  _ was _ realistic, in a totally unreal way. The landscape that took shape before your eyes was as tangible as the world you have come from, but something about it was always off, like the seams of reality were made of a different, less solid material, smoke and mirrors instead of ground, steel and concrete. The game could deceive you, if you didn’t realize that it was all too pretty, that the game welcomed you in when it really wanted you out.

“This looks… calm,” the other voice commented, as the air became solid on Chanyeol’s side, and a figure started to form beside him. It was made of data and electricity and black-and-white static, and then the boy blinked and it was solid, human. A person he knew but not exactly, Baekhyun but not himself. Like the rest of M.O.N.S.T.E.R, he had the face of a moving trap, real but unreal, familiar but foreign. 

“Oh, wow,” said Chanyeol, despite himself.

Baekhyun’s avatar -  _ Baekhyun -  _ grinned at him with an expression that was totally, absolutely his. “What?” he asked.

“Character design. That’s… neat, for a newcomer.”

“Impressed? It’s a shame the game didn’t let me modify a thing in terms of height. I wanted to be an oversized killing machine and they have crushed my dreams.”

“The game makes you use your own body as a base, because the transition is said to be  _ easier _ for your brain,” Chanyeol started to explain, interrupting his speech when his mind caught up. Baekhyun was looking at him, head slightly tilted in interest, but that time Chanyeol was the one smiling. “So,” he teased, “you wanted to make yourself taller.”

“Yeah, for a change. What about it?”

“I forget most of the time, but you’re small.”

“Everything and everyone is small compared to  _ you _ .”

Chanyeol raised his eyebrows. “Jealous?”

“Remember that in this world I can shoot you.”

“Well, it’s true that you can try.”

He felt strangely satisfied when Baekhyun gaped at him for a whole second. “Shit, you’re smug,” he whispered. “That’s hot.”

Now  _ that _ was satisfying. He tried not to beam at Baekhyun too much while the other boy unsheathed a couple of twin blasters, balancing them and trying the weight. It was then when he realized. “You didn’t get the weapons I told you.”

“Because you told me to choose beginner guns.” Baekhyun shrugged, scoffing. “I don’t like big blasters, you should know by now. I love being fast a bit too much, rather than strictly powerful. That, and they didn’t go well with my design. I worked hard on this, I don’t want my choice of weapon to ruin it.”

“You could have changed the color.”

Baekhyun tsk-ed at him, crossing his arms over his chest. "It's not just the  _ color.  _ It's the whole image. What you want to project. What you want to be. It's what others will see when they look at you." He sounded so serious, especially for someone that had never been interested in videogames before.

"You have  _ pink _ hair," Chanyeol said. He had probably sounded a little too incredulous, because Baekhyun looked at him the same way one of the cool kids would stare at his incredibly boring uncle.

"Yeah, I was looking for the contrast. Doesn't it work for you or what?"

Some M.O.N.S.T.E.R players went for the cool, others for the scary or the classy. Others simply chose to go for the flashy. Chanyeol's official avatar, back when he was Ace and not Zero, had been like that - fiery red hair, arms covered in tattoos, clothes of crimson and dark blue - so we could certainly understand Baekhyun going for the same effect. He did know the boy after all, and Sigma wasn't one to threaten, nor to take things calmly and hide. He was the type to walk into the room where his enemy was and ask how his day has been before shooting him straight in the face. Of course he would have chosen to stand out, but in Chanyeol's mind Baekhyun had always been black and white and silver grey, blue maybe, but not... pink.

He had pink hair, yes, and black clothes, tight like a second skin and riveted in gold - gold details on the sleeves, a gold zipper on his back - gold threads on the eyepatch he was wearing on his left eye. He was wearing black and gold and red; a blood red scarf wrapped around his neck, the ends of it falling until mid thigh. "Can you even see?" Chanyeol asked, and Baekhyun just grinned. He was just starting the game and looked as awesome as a pro player. "Or is that patch on your eye some kind of HUD add on?"

"Exactly that. It allows me to zoom and to track, apparently. Haven't tried it, of course, but it sounded useful enough for moving fast." He patted his sheathed weapons, almost proudly. And yeah, his avatar looked the part of someone that would go for speed... if he could manage to run. "But hey, well, it's common knowledge that even the official servers of this game are savage, right? I mean no offense, because this room in the map is pretty, but where are the monsters that try to murder us? And the other team we have to kill?"

"Ah,  _ that _ . You'll meet them in a proper arena," explained Chanyeol, chuckling. "Once you've cleared the tutorial level."

"...what?" Baekhyun looked around, borderline offended. Chanyeol realized then, that his only visible eye was dark brown, almost black. "Why would you log us into a tutorial? This is a shooting game, and I've been shooting for years. At real people. Not mortally, mind you, but..."

"It's game policy. First you do the tutorial, then you win five times against bots and then--" Baekhyun's exasperated groan echoed in the glass room.

"And when, for the Dream's sake, will your game let me play a proper match?"

"When you do that? I told you, you may know how to shoot with your real body, in real life, but here your whole being is different. You don't have the same strength, or the same stamina. This world doesn't stand by the same rules that you know."

"Yeah, yeah, I am very adaptable." Baekhyun dismissed him with a wave of his hand. "So what do I have to do here, to leave the tutorial of doom?"

"Check your user interface. Bottom right?"

A pause. Then an exasperated sigh. "So find the exits of the arena, eh? Why are they even making me do this."

It wasn't a question, and Chanyeol didn't answer. Instead, he followed and almost comically upset Baekhyun, out of the circular room and down the corridor. Tutorial maps, like everything else in M.O.N.S.T.E.R, were randomized out of Network data, and the server had outdid itself with that one. Everything was just a bit too dark and a bit too blue and a bit too disturbing, water bubbling beyond walls of glass, dark silhouettes swimming besides phosphorescent fish.

Silence. The sound of their steps and Chanyeol's own breath. The soft click of Baekhyun unsheathing both of his blasters. "Did you hear that?" he asked.

"Hear what?"

"And you're the trained one at this game? I heard a sound, something faint. In front of us."

The lights were too dim for Chanyeol to know for sure. He closed his eyes for a second and tried to concentrate on the noise, and he could hear it then: regular taps, like fingers playing their own tune on glass, "It can be something. Or it just can be the game playing with you. It does that a lot. You need to keep that at the back of your head, then act quick if needed."

"You think I don't know that? Again, I've been fighting for years and what you're saying is basic, Zero." They had left the first corridor, then moved into another big room, the ponds in the walls full with things big and dark. The tapping on glass continued, clearer now, regular. "I've changed my mind, I don't like this place. I hate not being able to see where I'm going."

"Good thing that what you need to do is to get out, then."

"Ha, ha. Aren't you funny." They had left the big room and were currently stepping into a tunnel, a semicircular construction completely made of glass, connecting two big buildings at the bottom of the ocean. The sea was pitch black, the waters turbulent. "This is not even that terrible. We've been walking for five minutes and we weren't attacked even once. I'm not impressed, just so you know."

"Then let's get out, shall we?"

"Yeah, according to the minimap on the UI, the exit should be--" Baekhyun sounded almost bored but had to interrupt himself mid-sentence when the sound came. A loud screech, so high pitched it drilled into Chanyeol's ears like a banshee's scream, even across the headphones his avatar wore. It was the sound of the tip of a knife over slate, of sharp nails on glass, and when the boy looked up he saw it: a woman, with greenish skin and a mane of half-rotten algae instead of hair, body pressed against the ceiling of the glass tunnel while she smiled at them, a feral grimace of pointed teeth. She hadn't been there a second before, but now she was, a beast that was still locked out, and wanted in. "Dream be gracious!"

Baekhyun looked up. The thing was above him. It screeched and he paled. The glass cracked, and Baekhyun rose up his gun and shot, one, two, three times.

Chanyeol didn't even have time to ask him  _ what the fuck was he doing _ before a flood of blackened water came rushing in. He tried to run. Before he could take a step, the floor also cracked under his feet, and then he lost balance and he was falling, falling, falling, into the depths of a watery grave.

It was strange, M.O.N.S.T.E.R. The seawater was there, all over him, on his skin and in his eyes and in his lungs, but the pressure and the cold of it were something distant, vague. His avatar was literally drowning, but what he was feeling electricity in his bones rather than fire in his lungs, the substitute sensation the game gave you when your HP was spiralling down and down and down.

Red numbers were blinking on the corner of his user interface. Two thousands, one thousand, five hundred.  _ Ready for the crash, now. _

It took one second. After that, all was black and he was falling, and then he opened his eyes and blinked, and his whole body bent forward, spine tense and he coughed and gaped and tried to reach for air. His neck hurt and the visor felt too constricting, fastened way too tight around his head, so he took it off and breathed in, shaking.

Baekhyun's conscience came back to his body a just a second after.

It was his first login, and he had been buried alive under a wall of water, so of course it hadn't been a smooth withdrawal from the server and it wasn't pretty. At all. His whole body spasmed, trapped in a wave of convulsion before it stopped, too still except for the way his lips were parted. He was gasping, as if he were half looking for air and half trying to hold back a scream. Chanyeol sighed, and fought his own wave of nausea as he stood up and walked to him.

“My body feels… so heavy,” was the first thing Baekhyun said once Chanyeol had unfastened his visor. He looked like he was about to tear up, if not for the fact that his eyes were dry. He covered them with one hand, however, when he realized Chanyeol was looking at him. “Stop staring, will you? I feel like I’m about to puke all over you.”

“I-- don’t. Perhaps letting you eat before you logged into an arena wasn’t that good of an idea.” Chanyeol frowned and Baekhyun laughed. His skin was covered by a thin layer of sweat, dampening the hair over his temples.

“That’s one hell of a hardcore game, eh? Remember when I told you it wasn’t living up to my expectations? Scratch that. I didn’t even reach the part where there’s a lot of stuff to kill and I already died  _ and _ returned to the real world feeling too dizzy to stand.”

Chanyeol stared at him, face blank. “Why would you even shoot that thing? It was out of the tunnel, Byun, and we were in. We should have run.”

“She was making me nervous, with all that screeching. It’s a game, right? So I can do stuff like that without real consequences.”

“So you’re telling me you did that on purpose.”

“Yeah.”

“While playing the tutorial.”

“Yeah.”

“Wow, you’re one big, fat liar.” 

Baekhyun was about to nod again when he processed the words and his satisfied grin faltered, only to harden itself back into challenge. “I was bored.”

“Didn’t you just say the monster was making you nervous?”

“Nervous  _ and  _ bored.”

“So you decided to kill us both and repeat the tutorial that was boring you so much. Makes sense.” Chanyeol took a step back when Baekhyun tried to grab him by the wrist. He looked so frustrated, both at the logic (or lack thereof) of it all and at the fact that his body wasn’t still responding as smoothly as he was used to.

“You’re sounding smug again. Don’t be smug,” Baekhyun warned him. He sounded so final, and he was staring at Chanyeol so intently, and the boy guessed that picking on new players wasn’t exactly a nice thing but oh yeah, praised be the Dream, revenge was so sweet sometimes.

“I didn’t know you were such a sore loser.”

That time, Baekhyun was at least capable of getting his visor back from Chanyeol’s hands - and he did so  _ greedily. _ “I’m not!” he exclaimed before pressing his forefingers against his temples with a grimace. “Oh, by the fucking Dream, I feel like shit. But I’ll let you know, Zero boy, I was just feeling the environment. My body feels different there, different limitations, so I was trying them out.”

“By killing us off. In the tutorial.”

“Can you stop repeating the tutorial thing?” With a huff, Baekhyun tried to stand. He was obviously not ready, because his legs gave in as soon as he tried to support his full weight on them. He would have fell face down on the floor hadn’t Chanyeol been there to grab him.

“Careful. First times are the worst. It’s better if you don’t move much for the initial couple of minutes.” No matter that he had joked about it: Baekhyun actually was half a head shorter that he was, but he wasn’t exactly tiny, and much less light. He was a dead weight on his arms, limbs purposely limp and head leaning on his shoulder, but the tension was still there, undeliberate and electrifying, just below the skin.

“Ah, but why should I be careful when baby boy is there to catch me?” he asked, looking up with narrowed grey eyes.

“I’ll drop you next time, if you don’t behave.”

“Huh. Good behavior is not something that goes with me,” Baekhyun started replying, but didn’t complain when Chanyeol guided him back to his seat. His IVR visor had fallen, but he caught him again, resolutely, when he was given it back. “But I’m better now. Enough to rock.”

“So we’re going in again? That’s what you mean?”

“Well, yeah.” Baekhyun looked back at him, with that smile on his lips that had always meant Trouble - the kind that had to be written with a capital T. “I am one of the most-searched men at the Dome. You could buy yourself a house with the amount of credits the Obelisk offers for information about me  _ only.  _ And I have managed to stay out of their cells because I am good at shooting, good at facing surprises, good at improvising. And this game gives me a body, a gun and a battleground. I was just warming up before, you see, there’s no way I’m losing at this if I decide to fight.”

It was kind of endearing that he was taking that so seriously.

“Okay, but don’t go all trigger happy and shoot random creatures on the face again, okay? Especially if they can’t touch you from where they are.”

“She was disturbing, okay? And she was doing that thing with her nails.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

“You’ll see now.”

“Okay.”

“I won’t die.”

“Sure.”

Thinking about it again, Chanyeol found no reason to be upset about Baekhyun claiming the good chair. After that, he was sure that the other boy was going to need a nice place to wake up. M.O.N.S.T.E.R wasn’t merciful to anyone, after all.

\--

Baekhyun died three different times in three different maps in three different prologues. Then, he proceeded to die at the hands of the new official team of bots, that coincidentally have been modeled after the Team Exodus members as a reward for winning the last tournament.

It was kind of amusing, to see a clone of yours, with a neutral expression and a palette of colors that had been reduced to black and white, kicking Baekhyun’s ass. Repeatedly.

“This is happening because I only get paired with noobs,” he complained, as he was trying to recover of the nausea of yet another forceful arena disconnection and the screen shone red with a single bright crimson inscription: YOUR TEAM LOSES. The soundtrack to highlight the fact was a rather ominous ballad that had always made Chanyeol frustrated, but he was… starting to appreciate its charms, he supposed.

“Because you still are in the beginner player section. What did you expect to find there, really? And besides, you were the first one to die,” he pointed out. “A headshot from behind, that was clean. As expected of a bot with  _ my _ face.”

“Your bot disqualified me in the game before this one.”

“He didn’t. It was the server that logged you out because of you using foul language.”

“What did I even say? It wasn’t that bad.”

“Going straight to where he was and telling him that  _ he might be a sneaky bastard but that you literally fucked in the ass the person he’s modelled after  _ is considered bad language wherever you go in the Dome. Not to mention uncalled for.”

“Too much information, I gue-- Wait, are you upset about that? That’s why you’re not logging in with me?”

Probably, Chanyeol should have been at least a tiny bit upset that Baekhyun was screaming things about his sex life where three random new players could hear him, but the newbies wouldn’t believe him and he was having the time of his life watching Baekhyun lose at the hands of his and his friend’s clones while he tried to pretend that he wasn’t frustrated. “I’m not logged in with you because I am not allowed into the newbie training arenas. the tutorial was one thing, since you were the only human in the map, but you have three teammates in the games you’re doing now. You’re… supposed to learn, not to rely on me so I win them for you. That, and it would be unfair, you having a pro player to carry you.”

Baekhyun looked at him in silence for a couple of seconds. “You’re enjoying this.”

“What can I say? It’s fun to watch you not having the upper hand for once.”

“You’re sadistic.”

“Yeah, yeah. And you’re still a sore loser.”

“I still don’t understand why I am losing.”

“First of all, because your avatar is different than your real body, and you don’t have the strength or speed or stamina you’re used to. And secondly, because you’re upset and messing it all up.” Baekhyun was still staring at him like he couldn’t believe his words, and it was new and strangely amusing to have the boy gaping at him like a fish out of water. Oh, how had the situation changed, now that the computers were on and they stood in his territory. “Oh, come on, you’ll get the grasp of it in no time, if you just practice. Meanwhile you could just consider appreciating the work I do for you more.”

“I appreciate it,” Baekhyun started to reply, then he paused, thoughtful. “What do you want?”

“Eh?”

“What do you want for helping me escape tutorial hell? I’m serious, Zero boy, everyone has a price. What’s yours?”

Chanyeol chuckled. That was endearing, in a really weird way. He looked at Baekhyun up and down, from the way he was staring at Chanyeol like he was actually challenging him to his hands on the visor on his lap. “So it’s that how it’s going to be? You begging me so I can make you win? I thought you were going to be good at all this.”

Every action came with a reaction, and Baekhyun’s was exactly what he was expecting. He didn’t hiss at Chanyeol, but he looked like he was awfully close to doing so. “I could be good at it if I wanted to. Maybe I decided I don’t want it.”

_ Yeah?  _ Chanyeol stood up from his own chair, kneeling before Baekhyun’s own, IVR visor forgotten and eyes narrowed. He was smiling, and Baekhyun was staring back at him like he was some kind of menacing creature he needed to evaluate. “Tell you what. I’ll commit to doing whatever you want,  _ anything _ , once, if you manage to get yourself out of the bot placement section in the next three games.” Baekhyun keep eyeing at him.  _ Wearily _ . Chanyeol would have sworn he had turned a little green.

“You’re blackmailing me into M.O.N.S.T.E.R proficiency?”

“I’m motivating you.”

“By giving someone like me a free card? I thought you knew better, baby boy. That could be dangerous for you.”

Oh, and there it was, what he had been waiting for. “Not at all,” he replied, smiling like the cat that had gotten not only all the cream in the house, but also a canary or two. “There's no way on this earth you're skilled enough to win.”

Baekhyun blinked - the terrorist on top of all the Obelisk most wanted lists, about to throw a tantrum like an angry child. “What did you say? Of course I am!” he protested, all smiles, but his knuckles over the polished surface of his IVR visor were white. That side of him was… interesting, for a change. “Connect me to the server, I’ll show you.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

“You’re being condescending.”

“I am the one risking stuff.” Chanyeol shrugged. “And you’re terrible. I have the right to.”

“I am not bad.”

“Want to bet on it?” Chanyeol wasn’t like Baekhyun - he couldn’t make himself look innocent when he meant all forms of evil - but Baekhyun was Baekhyun, and there was no way someone like him wouldn’t take the bait.

“Tell me what you have in mind,” he said, his smile almost feral.

“You do what I want. Just once. Anything I ask you.”

Well then, it was out. And Baekhyun’s knuckles were certainly a shade too white on his visor, but he was a prideful creature and he nodded. “Bring it on,” he said, and Chanyeol couldn’t stop himself and beamed at him.

“Game on, Byun. Game on.”

\--

To his favor, Baekhyun did his best. That, and he wasn’t exactly that bad for someone he had never played before, just… noobish, and a bit too ignorant of what the term  _ teamwork _ meant. But M.O.N.S.T.E.R was a savage game from start to end, and he wasn’t going to offer advice when they were betting. Not until he had won, at least.

Baekhyun had named his avatar Alpha - pretty militarish, pretty cool, pretty pretentious for a guy who died so much - and Alpha was out once when the bot with Chanyeol’s old character’s face shot him in the head again, then once more when a whole section of the map floor collapsed under his feet.

He had already lost the bet, but his team managed to win the third game. Which would have been a bit impressive, perhaps, had not he started to brag to Chanyeol when after killing one of the bots with a really neat move… only to forget he was standing on a bridge over a swamp and proceed to die when the tentacles of some disturbing lifeform wrapped around his ankle and dragged him under the mud.

He came back to the real world with a gasp, and to a flashing victory message on the main screen.

“We won because I killed that guy,” was the first thing he said.

“You almost killed your teammate five minutes before,” replied Chanyeol, laughing. “Not sure you’re receiving any player commendations.”

“Not my fault there’s friendly fire.” The boy just watched as Baekhyun started to remove his visor with shaky fingers. He felt a dull impulse to help him out with the thing, but Baekhyun was adapting well to the sudden server disconnections. He didn’t tremble or retch or fight to breathe anymore. Which was… nice. He was fast to adapt, more than Chanyeol himself had been when he was a gangly high school student. He supposed that the rigorous combat training had something to do with it. Possibly. “But I swear I still don’t understand why people in general are so hooked to this game. It’s just… frustrating. And draining. Physically draining.”

“And it takes effort to go up the ranks,” replied Chanyeol. “What? Do you want me to coach you?”

Baekhyun threw his visor at him. “Fuck off. I’ll show you. You don’t know how persistent I can be. I’ll train and quick your ass.”

“For your information, this is supposed to be a team game. You choose who you play with, not who you play against.”

“I’ll join a tournament, then. And defeat you.”

Chanyeol snickered, then went to log them out from the M.O.N.S.T.E.R server. The computer room had no windows, but he was sure that it was already night outside. “Good luck with that,” he muttered. He could practically feel Baekhyun’s gaze on his back, so he just kept speaking. “I still find it so weird. That you didn’t even get to play once. That’s being so… disconnected.”

“Told you, I wasn’t exactly focusing on all that,” said Baekhyun. “I went to a M.O.N.S.T.E.R tournament once, though.”

That was… unexpected. “How so? You went without knowing how to play?”

“Yeah. To watch, as public.” Baekhyun shrugged. “I wanted to see.”

“Curiosity, then?”

“Something like it.”

“Eeeh. Was I one of the players, then?” Chanyeol asked, bursting out laughing when Baekhyun blinked at him in something that looked an awful lot like confusion. “You should have tried before, though. It helps with stress.”

The grimace on Baekhyun’s face made him smile. “I am not sure about that part, Zero boy,” the other boy replied. “Why would you be so stressed, anyway?”

“Why wouldn’t I be?” Chanyeol turned around again to turn the whole computer and the screen off. He checked the visors, carefully, tuned them into wireless charging mode so batteries would be full when he came back. “Dreamless at my age, with a dead Fated person and no serious job or life perspectives. I was actively trying not to let myself be affected by it, but how that’s even a hundred percent possible? I was good at M.O.N.S.T.E.R at least, so I kept playing. It helped with stress… and with paying the bills after some point.” When he turned around once more, Baekhyun was still sitting on his chair, looking at him with his head slightly tilted but not smiling anymore.  _ By the Dream, Park, I’m sure he doesn’t want to hear you rant about this.  _ “Anyway, I--”

“I still think it was fated,” said Baekhyun. “For you to come here. But of course the Obelisk wasn’t going to tell you that. You know that.”

It sounded convenient. A bit too much. Destiny, shaped as either the Obelisk or Baekhyun wanted it to be. “Right.” He paused. Baekhyun parted his lips but Chanyeol wasn’t feeling like letting him speak. “My family was a bit worried about me focusing on that a bit too much, but what to do about it? All my M.O.N.S.T.E.R time was like eighty percent of my life, but at least my ability has turned out to be more useful than I thought.”

“Well, to be honest I can relate to something taking up eighty percent of your life,” said Baekhyun. His eyes weren’t exactly human enough to show kindness, but his smile reached them, somehow. “But hey, it seems obvious that  _ I  _ can be the one to Break in this team. Look at how those games went.”

_ That _ was the interesting topic of the day: virtual Baekhyun’s one thousand dumb ways to die. “Hey, now that you mention it, that reminds me of something. We had a bet, you know, and you lost it.”

Baekhyun clicked his tongue but he stood, smile sharpening like a crescent blade. “Oh, that.” He made a show just of sighing and walking towards him, in that way he had of bringing attention in and making himself be  _ seen. _ He still had Chanyeol’s sweater on, a sweater that Chanyeol had never considered to be a piece of clothing that could make someone attractive. “I lost, so I have to be fair with you, huh? A deal’s a deal. I have do something, anything, that you want, just one single thing. So.” He tapped Chanyeol in the chest with a finger. “What’s it going to be?”

For a moment, Chanyeol was tempted. As in really,  _ really _ tempted. In the end, he just bent forward to whisper in his ear. “Ah, I know,” he said. “Bake me a cake.”

Chanyeol had to pull back, only because he needed proper space to watch Baekhyun’s eyes go wide and his full expression to open to shift into the most perfect representation of astonishment he had ever seen. “A cake,” he repeated, taming his expression into something just slightly surprised. And unamused.

“Yeah, a real one. Edible, not burned. A chocolate cake, in fact, with chocolate chips.”

“A chocolate cake,” repeated Baekhyun. “That’s what you want. A cake.”

Remaining serious when Baekhyun seemed right about to lose it seemed almost more difficult than closing his eyes and jumping for a 20th floor with the actual boy in his arms, but the little shit had been having the upper hand for months and now he wanted to enjoy his taste of sweet, sweet revenge - served cold, or hot, or still warm from the oven. “You know, any other stuff that you could possibly have in mind, you’re totally going to come for it by yourself. What kind of punishment would that be? You wouldn’t even be suffering.” Baekhyun was gaping at him and honestly, Chanyeol would have high-fived himself. “The other option that I was considering was making you hand wash all my dirty laundry, but we have washing machines for that and in the end there wasn’t profit in for me.”

“I… Has someone ever told you that you’re a terrible person?”

“No. What I’m actually told, and by you precisely, is that I am a good boy.”

Baekhyun let out an incredulous laugh. “Dream gracious. You’re lowkey savage.”

“And you’re still baking me a cake.”

“I’m going to poison you, I swear.”

“I wouldn’t.” Chanyeol shrugged, raising his eyebrows at him. “Who would be Breaking for you if you do? Jongdae?”

At that, Baekhyun snorted, but he didn’t seem that upset anymore. “I swear I hate you.”

\--

It took three days for Baekhyun to come home with ingredients and two more for him to dismiss training and actually lock himself in the kitchen for a whole morning. Jongdae had gone to Chanyeol to complain while he was in firearm practice, like he seriously believed the boy was going to actually do something to stop that.

“Look, Minseok is going to kill us all if Sigma does something even remotely bad to his kitchen,” he’d stated, looking upset, and scared, or possibly both. “He’s the kind of guy who has cleaning as a hobby.  _ Cleaning _ . I don’t know if you realize that Sigma blowing up the microwave is a serious issue in this hou-- Could you at least stop smiling like that? You’re creeping me out.”

“Jongdae,” interrupted Chanyeol. “Jongdae. He lost a bet and is making me an actual cake. Baekhyun. A cake.”

“Look, I know I told you he’d warm up to you, but I didn’t mean it would be sensible for you to bond through sex and potentially fatal baked goods. Are you sure you know what you’re doing?”

“We’re… both adults, Jongdae. It’s not like he’s forcing me to do anything I haven’t agreed to. It’s just for stress. And about the cake, I won’t eat it if it looks too suspicious. I’m just all in for this concept.”

“You’re-- You know how Sigma is as a person.”

Chanyeol sighed. “Yeah, I do,” he said. “Don’t think I’ve magically forgotten. It’s not like I’m marrying him, Jongdae, and you have to admit this cake episode is being funny.”

Jongdae hadn’t looked especially convinced, but despite whatever he’d said he had walked into the kitchen as soon as Baekhyun had unlocked the door. “Oh-oh,” he’d said. And Chanyeol could agreed at that - it was  _ oh-oh _ indeed.

If a chocolate fairy existed, then Chanyeol was sure that Baekhyun had killed her in that room. There was chocolate on the cupboards, chocolate of the floor and a suspicious brown stain in one of the walls. The sink was full of dirty utensils. There was something very burnt at the bottom of a pot. And in the middle of the mess was Baekhyun, with an apron over a black t-shirt and a plate with a…  _ thing _ in his hands.

“Here it is,” he announced, placing it on the table. Chanyeol walked towards it, carefully.

“What’s… that supposed to be?”

“Chocolate cake, with chocolate chips, and covered in chocolate sauce.”

“It kind of reminds me of that time when I went to visit the production farms down at Eighth back when I was in elementary school,” commented Jongdae. Baekhyun turned to stare at him.

“What? How?”

“The imagery. It looks a whole lot like a cowpat.”

Baekhyun groaned. Chanyeol snorted. “Cowflop cake.”

“Cow _ pie.” _

“The deal was that I had to make a cake, and that it had to be edible and chocolatey, not pretty.”

“But Baekhyun,” said Chanyeol, bordering the table while he observed the other boy’s masterpiece. He had just reached his side when a clog of brown, lumpy something detached itself from the rest of the cake. “You have to admit it looks rather… shitty.”

“Your fault. Now you should stop cake-shaming me and actually try it.”

“Is that apt for human consumption?”

Baekhyun rolled his eyes and handed Chanyeol a fork. “You tell me.”

Perhaps the cake thing hadn’t been such a great idea after all, and maybe Chanyeol should have been intelligent and left that chocolate entity alone, but he had gone that far and he wasn’t going to be the one backing off after Baekhyun had destroyed the kitchen. He leaned forward and took a forkful of The Thing, which was suspiciously gooey on the outside but hard on the inside. He brought it to his mouth, trying not to think so much about the color or the shape of the consistency of what he was actually eating, and chewed.

“He ate it,” mused Jongdae.

Chanyeol chewed thoughtfully. The exterior of it was so lumpy, the inside was so dense that it was actually hard to eat, but taste-wise… “If you don’t think about the texture, it’s not so bad.”

“No way,” said Jongdae.

“No way,” said Baekhyun. It took him a whole actual second to regain his composure and shake his head as if he had known all along. “See? It’s abstract-looking, but the taste is what counts.”

“Yeah. I mean, it’s terrible. The spongy part of it is hard as a rock and I don’t even know what to say about the sauce, but it tastes like actual  _ weird _ chocolate. I guess I could eat this thing, if I came home late and I was drunk.”

“A cake for drunk people,” repeated Baekhyun, like that was something actually good.

“You’re lying to him, let me try that.” Jongdae took the fork from Chanyeol’s hand and grabbed a way-too-small portion of cake with it. He made a show if it all, getting it past his lips with a grimace, but then blinked in surprise. “You’re… kind of right?” he admitted. “This thing is so horrible that it has its own charm. I don’t even know how to explain this sensation. It’s a whole experience.”

“See? It’s decent,” said Baekhyun.

“We never said such a thing,” started Chanyeol. Baekhyun was grinning a bit too much… until suddenly he stopped, eyes blinking and strangely unfocused. Or rather, focused on something else. “Is there something wrong?”

The other boy shook his head. “Eye comm.”

Just then, the watch-shaped comm on Jongdae’s wrist beeped. “Ah, mine too, wait.” He turned on the holographic screen with a frown and read in silence. “It’s the boss, telling me to fetch Chanyeol and go to his office. Did we have a meeting scheduled for today?”

Baekhyun blinked, a spiral of artificial light shimmering behind his eyes as he shook his head. “No. Not for today specifically but we  _ were _ expecting something. Maybe things are finally going to start moving, don’t you think?” He took the apron off, throwing it onto the closest chair, shredding it off like he shredded his easy smile in favor of something way more vicious. “I hope it’s that. I was starting to get bored of waiting. Never been good at that, you see.”

He was half on his way out of the room when Jongdae clicked his tongue. “Hey Sigma, that’s great and all, but are you really planning to leave the kitchen like this?”

“We’ve been called urgently, so there’s no helping it.” Baekhyun looked around. “Besides, I agreed to making a cake, not to cleaning after that. Not my problem if the boss gets angry, right?”

“Hey, you…” Jongdae started.

“By the way, I was thinking. We should get Chanyeol a watch-comm, right? It’s inconvenient having to go find him when we or the boss contact him. Get one for him, okay?” Baekhyun added when he reached the door. After that, he had the nerve to  _ wink _ , and then he was gone.

\--

Jongin and Kyungsoo were at Minseok’s office when Chanyeol’s group arrived, Kyungsoo calmly sitting on a chair, still as one of his dolls, Jongin leaning against the door at the right of Minseok’s desk. He acknowledged Chanyeol when he entered, with a small nod of his head but no trace of a smile.

“Long time no see,” said Kyungsoo, words flat that Chanyeol seriously doubted he cared about polite human interaction at all. “It took a while for you to come.”

“We came as soon as we were summoned,” replied Jongdae. “But it’s good to see you, Doctor. What have you been up to?”

“Model perfectioning,” said Kyungsoo. “I’ve been working on skin. Synthetic skin.”

“That sounds… great,” Jongdae answered.  _ Yeah,  _ Chanyeol added in his own mind.  _ A great deal of creepy.  _ He was about to say hello and hope that much was enough when Baekhyun took one step forward.

“What’s up, and why are they here? Did you manage to find something useful in that information we risked our lives to get?”

Minseok was sitting behind his desk, brows furrowed and one hand over his mouth. He sighed. “Sigma.”

“I’m cutting straight to the point, am I not?”

“Hello Jongin, Kyungsoo. Minseok too,” said Chanyeol. “Did you really managed to extract something?”

There were many things to consider. Project Morpheus itself, the fate of Dreamers, the strange man he had found in the center of a ruined amusement park the last time he’d Broken. He couldn’t say he had forgotten about all that, because the silent push of his need to know was always at the back of his mind, but the urgency has softened into a dull throb, buried below his training schedule and his M.O.N.S.T.E.R games, and the traces of Baekhyun’s scent. But he was starting to feel it now, once more - that trepidation.

“Not as much as we’d want to.” It was Kyungsoo who spoke, tone even, dark eyes on Minseok instead of on him. “Even my network of clients is having a dark time deciphering it.”

“We are working on it, but we’ll need more time,” Minseok finally added. “The hacking units in our organization are also at it, but we need time. Maybe two days, maybe five. Perhaps a week. We can’t still be sure.”

“Why did you call us, then? And why is he here?” asked Baekhyun, signaling towards Jongin with a curt shake of his head. “You have something, right? Aren’t you going to tell?”

Sighing, Jongin left his spot at the wall and walked to the desk at the center of the room. “May I?” he asked, and Minseok nodded. “I have been working on this as well, signed up as one of Kyungsoo’s associates. And most of the heavy data is still far from our reach but I managed to get something. A single thing. Take a look at this.”

He unlocked the sleek black comm he had around his wrist, turning the hologram screen on. Chanyeol didn’t know that comm; Jongin had always worn the same old-ish model since they knew each other.

“What’s it?” Baekhyun asked, hands on the desk, body bent forward.

Jongin nodded. “Look.” He switched the hologram screen to full projection mode, and an image soon appeared, in the center of the room where all of them could see. She looked like a ghost, pretty and sickly pale, a young girl dressed in a white hospital gown, black hair floating around her like a halo, eyes covered by a blindfold and cables connected to her head.

“That’s…” Chanyeol whispered. He remembered those clothes, the blindfold and the white gown, the water that seemed to surround her.

“A Dreamer,” hissed Baekhyun. “When was this taken? Do you know?”

Still tapping on his holographic keyboard, Jongin nodded, curt. “Dream Year 2215, September.”

“So  _ this month _ ? Is she alive?”

“That we don’t know. This is all we’ve gotten for now, but she might be,” Minseok replied.

Chanyeol took a step forward. “She is,” he said. “She has to be. I’ve seen her. I saw her before, an image or… a video of her. When I was Breaking, as I took the data out.” It had been a flash, but he remembered: a dark haired girl submerged in water, and Doctor Lu looking at her. He didn’t know if that recorded had been downloaded with the data he had taken from the server or if it was part of what had been left behind. “Do you know who she is? Her name or when was she taken in...?”

“You don’t really pay much attention to the news, do you?” Kyungsoo called him out. He didn’t say anything else, and was Jongin who took charge, taking the image away and using the projector on his comm to show them something else. That, Chanyeol could recognize easily: it had the bright colors and the calm music of all the official new broadcasts at the Dome. It was a recent one, dated April DY 2215 - barely five months before - and featured that same girl, just healthier and full of life, dressed in a pretty black dress and smiling at the people that surrounded her as she was escorted out of an apartment block, Commander Wu at her side, shielding her from an elated crowd.

Jongin pressed a key and the metallic voice of a news anchor filled the room.

_...cheerful crowds mobilize to bid Bae Joohyun goodbye after her official awakening as a Dreamer last week. The young woman, aged twenty four, will be joining her peers in the Obelisk Tower in the center of town after a training period in which she… _

The girl kept waving and smiling onscreen, and Chanyeol could still hear the shouts and calls for her, the screams of the crowd, even after Jongin had muted the sound feed once more. Dreamers were supposed to see glimpses of Fate while they sleep; they indirectly decided what was to become of all inhabitants of the Dome, and the boy wondered if that girl  _ knew _ what was going to happen to her as she was being taken away from her home.

If the Obelisk was lying about the extent of the Dreamers’ powers, or if there was something real to it and they knew of the future.

_ Why isn’t she running?  _ he thought.  _ If there’s a part of truth to it, why is she letting herself be carried away? _

“So she was alive last month. And she might be now?” Baekhyun said, very slowly. There was that edge to his voice again, the involuntary hardness that it took when the blows hit close to home. “Do you know where she is?”

“No,” replied Minseok. “But we might, later, once we have broken the encryption for this files.”

Baekhyun froze. He wasn’t going to ask, and Chanyeol took upon himself the duty to do so. “Why?”

Jongin’s smile looked almost demential when he answered. “The data is all on her. Her full file. We might not get it all but there has to  _ be _ something.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So well, everyone have a cake :D
> 
> This was mainly a ChanBaek-focused transition chapter so I hope you have enjoyed it after all the action on the last one :D We'll be back with more fast-paced, plot-driven stuff when next chapters are up!
> 
> Next update will be up in November, so please wait patiently :D
> 
> Meanwhile, you can say hi to me on Twitter: https://twitter.com/babyeoI  
> Or ask me something on CuriousCat: https://curiouscat.me/babyeol  
> You can also say hi on Tumblr: https://baby-yeol.tumblr.com/
> 
> Bye bye, and see you soon!


	12. Login 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welps, after a long pause and a terrible block, here I am with the new chapter!
> 
> I'd like to thank M for beta-ing this, because my life and my sanity were saved thanks to her checking this.
> 
> and well, here you have it! I hope you enjoy, and a belated Happy New Year to you all! :D

**Login 11**

 

Baekhyun was sitting on the kitchen table, gobbling down an alarming amount of cheese curry cup noodles, when Kyungsoo and Jongin came to the meeting.

“I tell you,” he was telling Jongdae, who was sipping from a plastic coffee cup looking very uninterested. “The matching system of that game is wrong. Why do I always get paired up with useless people and playing against all the good ones?”

“Said every new M.O.N.S.T.E.R player ever,” Chanyeol cut in.

He had to admit he felt some kind of sadistic delight at Baekhyun trying his best to appear nonchalant. His smirk would have been believable if Chanyeol hadn’t known the amount of hours that boy had been playing during the last few days. “Oh, come on, Zero boy, don’t be mean to me.”

“I’m not the one here who hates not being in control.”

“And how am I supposed not to get upset if everyone around me is dying?”

“How long did it take you to die, the last time you played?”

Baekhyun tapped the lid of the cup with his chopsticks and after a minute he sighed, licking his lips. “Ah, I’m full,” he stated. He turned towards Chanyeol, the corners of his lips twitching upwards. “But hey, what are you doing here laughing at my misery? I thought you were hoarded up at the gym all by yourself doing training stuff?”

Chanyeol shrugged. “I’m finished for today. There’s only a certain amount of daily hours I can put into something like that without dying. Especially because I still have shooting practice after lunch.”

“Do you know that he doesn’t want me to help with his training? Says I’m distracting.” Baekhyun asked Jongdae, then, looking oddly satisfied. Chanyeol rolled his eyes as he went to get the glass of water he had come to drink.

“He wouldn’t come even if I let him. He’s too busy being slaughtered online.”

“Aw, you’re too cruel. Even though I’m always so nice.”

“Do you realize, when you say that, that you’re lying?”

“I’m nice to you, though.”

“He’s not,” Chanyeol told Jongdae.

“Could you please get a room and spare me the suffering?” 

At that, Baekhyun laughed, covering his mouth with the back of his hand. He had a pretty laugh, if you didn’t mind him being obnoxious. “We’ve already got a room, but we get out of it sometimes. There’s stuff we have to do. Training. Food.  _ Chores. _ ”

“You don’t do chores.”

“I beg to differ. I put my clothes in the washing machine.”

“That’s not a chore.”

“I cook my food.”

“You put your food in the microwave,” Chanyeol cut in, snorting.

“Exactly? Don’t you see a pattern here? I open the door, put something in, press a button. I’m an expert at that.”

“The last time I told you to help me wash my laundry, you dyed all my shirts pink,” replied Jongdae, with a tone pretty much close to whining.

It was fitting in a sense, Baekhyun trying to wash his clothes and pressing buttons nonsensically until the thing started working. Chanyeol almost felt like laughing.

“Oh, come on. We all know I excel on the battlefield,” the man himself was saying, looking like the epitome of confidence and smiling like a little shit. “So what if I did the shirt thing on purpose so you didn’t want to order me around anymore, huh?”

“You would?” Jongdae raised his brows. “You totally would.”

Chanyeol couldn’t help a second snort.  _ What a total bullshitter. _

“What I think is that you’re terrible at anything that doesn’t involve shooting at people. In the real world, I mean, not even games,” he said. Baekhyun jumped from the table to the floor, crossing his arms over his chest.

“The nerve! I’m going to be the next Ace of M.O.N.S.T.E.R, you see!” he exclaimed. Still, he was kind of,  _ kind of _ smiling, like he was about to playfully punch Chanyeol in the arm and say something else. Only, he couldn’t, because it was then when Minseok opened the door, followed by Jongin and a very unimpressed Kyungsoo. For a moment, everything was silent - until Baekhyun himself was, at least, the first one to speak. “Hey Doc,” he called.

Kyungsoo said nothing. Minseok did.

“You’re all here? Great, that’s some comm calls I’m saving. Come here. We have an urgent meeting, now.”

In his workout clothes, Chanyeol looked around: Jongdae still had his half-drunk cup of coffee on his right hand, and every trace of playfulness had been washed away from Baekhyun’s face. He was smiling, but the steel could be seen now, cold in the artificial silver of his eyes.

“You decrypted the data?” he asked.

Jongin didn’t even answer before he headed out.

\--

“Bae Joohyun is alive and in town,” Jongin said. He sounded urgent, much more than Chanyeol had ever seen him, and almost as restless as Baekhyun looked. He hadn’t let Kyungsoo speak, even though the boy remembered would have never stolen someone else’s turn like that.

“Is she being kept?” asked Baekhyun, flatly. “Where?”

“She’s being moved. From one of the secondary complexes surrounding the Obelisk tower to somewhere else,” answered Kyungsoo this time.

“Where to?” Baekhyun’s voice was almost a hiss, and Chanyeol could see it, the tension on his shoulders, on the way his fingers were clasped on the fabric of his old grey sweater. “And when?”

“Don’t you see it?” Jongin shook his head. “This data you got… It’s a first, it’s a big step! We can save that girl! She’s still there, breathing! We can get a Dreamer back and ask her--”

“The Obelisk tower complex is high security,” Kyungsoo interrupted him, tone almost monotonous. “The highest in the whole Dome. It’s extremely hard to get in, and it would be impossible to leave carrying a young woman out. We don’t know the state she is in, that is something we haven’t deciphered yet from the code.”

“Yet?” repeated Baekhyun. “You didn’t get everything?”

Jongin crossed his hands over his chest. “We’ve got enough.”

“We are still working on it,” explained Kyungsoo. “Minseok, can I ask for your hacker’s services these week? Are you busy, Jongdae? Could we arrange for you to come with me to my workplace?”

The poor guy still had his cup of coffee in his hands, and he was drinking of it. When he heard about Kyungsoo wanting to take him, he literally choked in the middle of a gulp.

“He’s not busy,” said Minseok. Maybe it was Chanyeol’s imagination, but Jongdae looked a bit too pale. Understandable, if one considered Kyungsoo’s choice of an office was a creepy windowless place full of prosthetic limbs.

“Good. I have a handful of selected men working on it - hackers from other Rebel units, former Obelisk workers, a couple of contacts of mine… The best among the outcast. We should be able to decrypt all the salvageable data in two or three days at most.”

“Do we even have that much time?” asked Jongin.

“We will have to risk it.”

“I won’t allow a rescue mission before we have more details,” stated Minseok. “This doesn’t involve only us, and it’s not just retrieving information. We’ll receive support from the other units, and we must prepare for combat. Attempting to get a Dreamer back is an open offense against the Obelisk.”

Baekhyun shook his head with a lopsided grin. “As if the other stuff we’ve been doing was a peaceful picnic in the park or something. Though I have to agree, eh? This one is one hell of a big mission. So, well, what am I doing?”

There was a buzz in the room, a kind of silent pull, drawing Chanyeol in like an enraptured child to a burning fire. It had been him who had gotten the data they were discussing. It was him, as well, in the middle of a war council, standing in front of Minseok’s desk, with Baekhyun at one side, Jongdae at the other, Jongin pacing around the room.

Surreal. Real. He had saved the day once before.

“Sigma, you wait. What to do depends on variables. You asked where she was going to be taken to, and when. That’s what we are trying to learn, extracting the data out, combining it with Kyungsoo’s sources. We want a controlled attack, not a full assault on the city’s forces. Patience is a virtue here.” Minseok pursed his lips.

“Excuse me I’m more of a vice kind of guy. What’s wrong about making this whole city burn?”

“You know what’s wrong about it.”

“Maybe. And you could always convince me that your idea is better. You know, by sharing it, dear leader.”

Chanyeol was biting the nail of his thumb. “We’re going to intercept her when she’s being moved, aren’t we?” he muttered. Baekhyun turned to him with an open grin now, playful and amused and sharp. 

“Yeah, I thought about that too. I know the kind of security at the feet of the tower. If not deactivated, maybe a man could pass, if he didn’t care much about dying, but not a whole group of people. Unless we’d want the whole army on us in five minutes. I’m not allowed to die, you know? And I would prefer them not killing you all either.”

“Thank you for your concern,” Chanyeol muttered. He hadn’t meant it as a compliment, but Baekhyun smiled at him anyway.

“I’m always concerned about you, baby boy,” he stated, blinking a silver grey eye. “But anyway, leader, you say other rebel units are supporting us. Does this mean that we’re the ones to take the lead and retrieve the girl or are we sharing the glory?”

“We’ll be the ones retrieving the girl,” replied Jongin, intensely.

At Chanyeol’s side, Baekhyun raised a black, well-trimmed eyebrow. “ _ We? _ Last time I checked, you weren’t in our group.”

Jongin’s head snapped towards him. “I’m the informant that got you on tack, and that means I’m in this as much as you are,” he told Baekhyun, and there was this hidden intensity in it, like the blow of the wind at the other side of the window when the weather control center turned it on. Something about it made Chanyeol want to take a step back, to stare at his friend and wonder if he had been as angry as himself all that time, but Baekhyun was all nonchalant about it.

“Well, I’m not the boss in this group. I didn’t invite you, but if you’re here I guess someone else did, so what am I to say about it? I was just pointing a fact.” The boy looked up at Chanyeol when he felt his hand on his shoulder. “I’m collaborative. The only thing I need to know is who my allies are.”

“We’ll be counting on Jongin for the moment,” said Minseok. “We’re short on Breakers, and on people still working on the Obelisk offices, for that matter. He’ll be supporting us in this next mission. I understand, Sigma, that I can count with your absolute cooperation to be at the front of the attack when it comes.”

“Attacks,” repeated Baekhyun. He clasped his hands over his chest, lacing his fingers together like a very, very gleeful child. “I love attacking things. Is Zero boy coming with me?”

A short shadow of doubt crossed Minseok’s eyes. He stared at Chanyeol for a long moment, and the boy felt a wave of panic, leaving him breathless. He was there, in the eye of the storm. He had saved the day once, and he had almost died for the thrill of it.

“How’s your training going, Chanyeol?” Minseok asked him. There was this hint of doubt in his voice, an open chance for Chanyeol to allow himself a stance. He had became a member of that group to Break, and joining Baekhyun in an infiltration mission gone crazy was different to actual combat. They all would understand if Chanyeol chose to remain behind in that one attack; they would expect it even. Chanyeol wondered what Baekhyun would expect of him.

He wondered if any of them thought he’d prefer not to do things himself after realizing he could be capable.

“Fine enough,” he replied. “I work well with Baekhyun. I’ll go with him if you allow me.”

“I never thought Sigma could work well in a team with anyone,” Minseok still seemed doubtful.

There was warmth again his side and Baekhyun was looking up at him, linking their arms together like they were the best pals ever. “That was because you never got me anyone compatible, leader,” he stated, his head slightly tilted, just enough for it to rest on Chanyeol’s shoulder. “But anyway, if Zero boy wants to fight, let him come with me. Isn’t that what we do here? He’s a valid asset, I know, but I won’t let him get killed.”

“We’ll see,” Minseok half-conceded.

“I ask it of you,” Chanyeol insisted, bowing his head. He remembered the Dreamer girl, silently walking beside Commander Wu, in the middle of a cheering crowd. She had a name, and a face, and a life that had been taken away. He could have a purpose. “Please, let me go.”

All eyes were on him, Jongin curious and Kyungsoo annoyed and Minseok a little more thoughtful, maybe. “I'll count with you as part of the team when we get further info,” he finally said. “We’ll design a specific plan once we learn how she’s being moved.”

Chanyeol almost sighed, relieved, even if it was to get rid of the air stuck in his throat. He heard Baekhyun chuckle and felt him pat him on the back before the other man removed himself from him. 

In front of them, Kyungsoo cleared his throat. Even that sound was low and measured, in a way that made Chanyeol uncomfortable. 

“Now that we have that covered up, I assume we can move on to the next point?” he asked. 

“Another point?” Baekhyun asked back. “So you've managed to decrypt more stuff?”

“Obviously.” Without looking at him, Kyungsoo started to tap on the holographic keyboard of his wrist comm. He was quick, for a man typing with one hand. “Can I use the big screen on the room?” he asked Minseok. 

“Yeah, let me give your device access to the local network and--”

“No need. I was the one who programmed this network. I still keep the master passwords.” Kyungsoo's fingers danced over the holographic keys and the screen on one of the walls lit up. There was a single text file there shown, lines and lines of numbers ordered in some sort of table, black over white in rows. 

“What is that?” Chanyeol asked, frowning. He stole a look at Baekhyun, but the other boy looked even more confused than he was. “It's a table, right? But a table of what?”

Kyungsoo swept his hand over the keys and two columns of numbers lit up in red. Chanyeol’s eyes travelled from one set of numbers to the other, while he moved closer to the screen to take a better look.

“It’s comparing values. This,” he whispered, pointing at the red column on the right, “with this one,” he added signaling the other row of crimson numbers. He was to add something else, so try to guess, but before he could completely realize that he was there too, Baekhyun’s silent figure stopped at his side.

“What are these values for? It doesn’t say. Is this data on her?” he asked. He was biting his bottom lip, front teeth pushing his silver ring against the skin.

“Could be,” conceded Kyungsoo. “I am still not sure. I have a theory, however.” 

“Oh, great, Doc. Care to share?”

“Not yet.”

Baekhyun let out a long groan. “Come on, you can’t show us this and then leave us out of the explanation! If you don’t want us to know, why did you bring this in the first place?”

“Because I was wondering, myself… Not about what this data means, but rather...” Kyungsoo started. Baekhyun shifted his weight from one foot to the other. “All the data you retrieved comes from the same security level. From the same… folder, so you understand me. It’s data on Bae Joohyun. General, superficial: age, status, capacities, location. It’s what I was expecting you’d get, in fact. What would be uploaded in a medium security computer. It was supposed to suffice, and it serves our purpose.”

“And? Isn’t that good?” asked Baekhyun.

“It should be good,” Minseok told him. “At first sight, at least. But that file you got...”

Frowning, Chanyeol turned towards the numbers on the screen. Too many, too vague. They seemed to dance in front of his eyes if he squinted, like some black and white mirage.  _ What are they? _ “It doesn’t make sense,” he realized.

Baekhyun shrugged with a very dramatic sigh. “Yeah, yeah, and I seem to be the only one here that doesn’t get it. I vouched for you to be my mission partner, Zero, and I thought we were getting along just fine. So could you be a good boy and fill me in?”

“Baekhyun, look at it.”

“I  _ am _ looking!”

“You’re not paying attention. Kyungsoo said all the data they got, and that they were expecting to get, was general information on her. We got videos of the moment she was recruited, we got her name and her age. We got the place she’s in, and we’ll eventually get where she’s going to be moved to, and when, as soon as Jongdae or any other hacker manage to open all the files. It all goes together, in a sense, like some kind of general profile on this girl. And it’s logical, because Obelisk data tends to be kept in order, classified in different levels of security.”

Baekhyun’s index finger wrapped around the chain hanging from his lip. He turned towards the screen, frowning, and remained in silence for a long, long second. “Who put this analysis in there, then?” he said, pointing at the screen with a soft tilt of his head. “It breaks the order, right? And the Obelisk doesn’t like chaos. That’s what you’re trying to say.”

“It looks like something that should be in a deeper level of security,” confirmed Chanyeol. “It’s… weird, from a Breaker’s perspective. We can retrieve data, but not from different security levels at the same time.”

“So… Zero retrieved a strange little analysis chart from a place where there should have been none.”

“Yes,” said Kyungsoo.

“And of course, that wasn’t by chance, huh? Who put it in there?”

If he closed his eyes, Chanyeol could still see the black parade of skeletons, marching at the rhythm of their song. They had come from his eyes and his heart, just after he had talked to a boy in a red gas mask, sitting atop the old ferris wheel like he belonged in that place.

“Clarity,” he said. “I talked to you about him.”

“I remember that report,” replied Minseok, frowning. “I still don’t know what to think about that.”

“Neither do I,” added Kyungsoo. He was still looking at the numbers on the screen as if he could get his answer by doing that alone, and ended up turning them off when it was obvious he didn’t find any. “Even if different Breakers are trying to access the same file, unless they log in from the same point, they should be appearing in different instances.”

“Instances?” repeated Baekhyun.

“Like different maps,” Chanyeol clarified. “When you play the regular M.O.N.S.T.E.R, there’s thousands of people connected to the same server as you are, but the only people you see are the people on your team and the players you have to kill. That’s because the game creates a specific map for you and your friends to fight in: a randomly generated map that’s only used once and then deleted, once the combat’s over. The process is the same when Breaking: an instance map is generated using a M.O.N.S.T.E.R mod, and it’s randomly generated, for only us to use. It shouldn’t be possible to log onto any of those after the game has started… If it was, the Obelisk would probably be using their own human players to hunt Breakers and stop them, while they’re doing their thing, don’t you think?”

After a while, Baekhyun nodded. “Makes sense, I guess…?”

“The way M.O.N.S.T.E.R instances its content is a fatal design flaw,” Kyungsoo said, frowning. “Like many other things in that game.”

“Yeah, and we Breakers exploit that flaw for evil. That’s why… That Clarity person in my map doesn’t add up.”

“Are you sure he was human?”

“He talked like one, that's for sure. What was he going to be, if not? Game generated content? M.O.N.S.T.E.R doesn’t implement human shaped NPCs, and much less to  _ speak, _ ” Chanyeol stated, biting his bottom lip. “And that’s what we did. He spoke to me - said he knew me.”

_ You’re a fun one,  _ he had said.  _ What do you think about Destiny?  _ He had whispered that M.O.N.S.T.E.R was made of thoughts and fears, and told him to run from the creatures and skeletons that had been parading down below.  _ You do have a heart, right Zero? You have eyes on your face? _

“Do you think he tracked you somehow? That he used some method to hack into your map?” Minseok asked. “Is that possible?”

He was looking at Kyungsoo. The boy had one arm on his waist, kept tapping on the floor with one foot.  _ Tap, tap, tap, tap. _ “It’s worrisome.”

The abandoned amusement park had lacked any danger after the man had finished speaking, and Chanyeol was safe now - he’d been safe for days - but he still shuddered. “I don’t think he hacked into my map. That whole thing… He talked like I had logged in into his.”

Kyungsoo’s eyes narrowed. “Is it so?”

“He said he was surprised to see me,” Chanyeol remembered. “But I suppose he could have been lying.”

“Do you think he could have put that data there for Chanyeol to take?” asked Minseok. “Is it safe to use it? That, or all the other information on Bae Joohyun. Perhaps they’re tricking us.”

“Is it  _ now _ that we got data on where a Dreamer is when you’re thinking of playing it safe?” Jongin raised his voice, incredulous. “They know we stole something! Chanyeol and the Sigma boy weren’t exactly discreet while walking into the place! I don’t think anyone in this room is expecting to catch them by surprise. Or are you?”

“No,” Minseok admitted.

“Ah, look at this, I’m the Sigma boy now,” Baekhyun chimed in. He was smiling, perhaps a bit too much, the grin betrayed by the straight line of his shoulders. “But I agree with newbie guy, though. I’ve waited years to be able to get my grabby hands on info like that. You do what you want, but if you back off on the mission, I’m getting the work done by myself. It wouldn’t be the first time.”

“I’d go with him,” joined Jongin.

Minseok shook his head. “I’m not backing off. I’m just being cautious. Someone has to be the sensible one here.”

“Yeah, yeah, that is what you get paid for. But still, do you think that the Clarity guy was working for the Obelisk?” Baekhyun kept his hands in his pockets. He looked at Chanyeol first, for the blink of an eye, and then at Minseok. “He got Zero into his map, maybe, and perhaps he was the one who put those numbers in the data we downloaded, but does it have to be a trap  _ for us? _ What if the guy is not exactly an enemy, huh? What if he wants to fuck the Obelisk over just as much as we do? Have you considered?”

“That’s--”

Baekhyun shrugged. “What do you think?” he asked, turned towards Chanyeol.

The boy didn’t know what to reply, exactly. It was when Clarity had spoken that the world had broken and the monsters had come for him, but then again… “We can’t be sure it was him who gave us those numbers, but in any case… why not use them? Let’s try to see what they are. It might still be some kind of trap but we are aware of that.”

For a second, none of them said a thing. Just when Minseok seemed about to add something, Kyungsoo flicked his holographic keyboard shut. “I’ll look into it. Give me time.”

Jongin sighed. “Again, how much?” he insisted. Kyungsoo turned to stare with a frown, and that was enough for the boy to decide to keep quiet.

“As much as I need. I work fast, however, so be ready. We’ll have a need for you soon.”

\--

“Are you sure this is okay for you, Chanyeol?”

The boy considered it for a moment, then nodded again. “I told you. I’ve been training and you need men. I’ll be fine.”

“Still, I could ask for more support if you want to take it slow. You’ve done more than we asked you for, and we need people at command, too. I just want to make sure you want this, to confirm it in private. You think fast, you’re needed.”

“You’ll need fast thinkers at the front, too,” replied Chanyeol. The following thought came into his mind uninvited, almost intrusive. “I enjoy it, in a sense. It was scary last time but I… I enjoy to be able to fight.”

“Well then.” Minseok had been sitting behind his desk and he stood up. He wore the same heavy face that had added a layer of tiredness to his features back at the meeting that had just ended. “You’ll need a new comm and equipment. I’ll make sure to let the higher-ups know.”

“That’d be useful. Thank you.”

“I’ll be counting on you, Zero.”

“Yeah.”

Chanyeol had not had any specific plans about what to do that afternoon - his original idea had been to go back to training, maybe shooting, maybe melee weapons, but he felt a bit restless after the meeting to focus on that, his head slightly spinning and a hum in his chest. That was why he felt almost relieved to see Baekhyun lazily checking his comm messages, his back against the corridor wall while he pretended not to be waiting for him.

“Hey,” Chanyeol said, and Baekhyun rose his head to look him almost immediately. He had a playful smile, a bit too tight on his lips.

“Ah, coming out of the boss’ office, huh? You got a private motivational speech? I’m jealous.”

“It felt more like Minseok giving me a personal escape route. He’s worried that I may not really want to fight.”

“He’s worried about me being a terrible influence for you.”

“Really?” Chanyeol started, laughing.

“Don’t tell me I’m not. You’d make me sad.”

“What do you want me to say, then? That you've corrupted me into doing horrible things?”

“At least that would justify our dear leader and his friends nagging at me like they were my good old grandma.”

Following his usual trend those days, Baekhyun had spent almost every hour since that morning locked in the basement, gaming. When he dressed up, he could easily made himself look like one of those Fifth Ward trendy party animals, but Chanyeol had learned that he didn't go out much whenever he had free time. He trained, he worked out, and now he played M.O.N.S.T.E.R, and he didn't care that much about how he looked when he stayed in. So considering that his hair was a mess and that there was a suspicious stain on his sweater, Chanyeol shouldn’t be that attracted to him.

And still, he felt his breath getting stuck in his mouth when Baekhyun pretty much checked him out, smile lazy and gaze slow.

Oh, well.

“So they do nag at you,” he teased.

“They are always looking for excuses to do it, so well, not surprising. It’s hard to be me, you know?” Baekhyun lowered his eyes and grabbed Chanyeol from the front of his sweater, fingers slowly curling on the fabric. “The only one of my close group of rebels who doesn’t lecture me about every seemingly wrong choice in my life is Kyungsoo, and I think that’s because he knows about every single thing I do, but he still doesn’t care. Others should really learn from that mentality.”

“Kyungsoo seems to know a lot, for being the prosthetic guy that lives in a basement,” Chanyeol commented. Baekhyun breathed deep through the grin he was still spotting, pulling Chanyeol towards him. 

“That’s because he’s way more than that.”

“More... like what, exactly?”

“Like some little Obelisk genius, before he fell from grace and deserted. You meet the weirdest people in this line of work, see?”

To say that Chanyeol was surprised would have been an understatement. “He is  _ what _ ?”

Baekhyun had practically dragged Chanyeol onto himself. He had the wall at his back and one of the strings of the other boy’s hoodie wrapped around his finger. He pulled, and Chanyeol felt the smallest tug at the base of his neck. “Ah, I caught you off guard with that one, eh, Zero boy?”

“Are you serious about this?”

“Would I lie to you?” Baekhyun’s eyes flickered up. There was this sheen in his eyes - trepidation under layers of metallic grey. 

“You’ve done it before.”

“But we’re friends now.”

“Are we?” Chanyeol chuckled, lowly, until Baekhyun pressed his thumb against his lip. His pulse was steady, the contact impatient.

“Jongdae said he was going to use the shooting room himself, and I’ve died enough times online today not to be bored, so come to my room? I kind of want the company.”

“What if I had plans for the day?”

Baekhyun pulled from the string of Chanyeol’s hoodie again, harder this time, and the boy let himself be dragged forward, until he was encasing Baekhyun, between his arms and the wall, and the other man was tapping with his fingers on his chest. “You cancel. Or I can always tie you up and convince you, if you don’t.”

He had whispered the words like he was sharing a secret. Chanyeol’s breath hitched.

And Baekhyun laughed at that, with the kind of low hum that would drag a man to hell. “Dream gracious, Zero boy, you’re so easy sometimes!” And then, looking up at him. “Is that a yes?”

Chanyeol didn’t reply. He just grabbed him by the wrist and pulled him upstairs.

\---

They had come to this pact, a sort of silent agreement between them since they had started messing around. One came to look for the other, sometimes, and after they had… helped each other, there were times when one of them stayed at the other’s room. Chanyeol wouldn’t have called it exactly intimate - not with the spark gone and quiet contentment replacing the urge - but it wasn’t awkward either, only sort of… nice, with his own body sated and Baekhyun quieter than usual.

He was lying at his side now, eyes on the ceiling like he was not to blame for the nail marks that had almost drawn blood on Chanyeol’s skin. Like he hadn’t been all urgent and demanding five minutes ago.

“I still don’t know,” Baekhyun was saying, in a soft, almost amused voice. “Why all of them talk to me like you’re some sort of child I’ve seduced. It’s funny because we ultimately follow your terms, right? I wasn’t the one here who decided when this started.”

“Why this now?” asked Chanyeol, caressing the sore skin of his wrist with his thumb.

“I’m just reflecting,” replied Baekhyun, raising his right hand towards the ceiling, like he was trying to grab the light of the dusk with his empty fingers. “You’re not the kind to bow your head when there’s things on the line, aren’t you, Zero?”

Chanyeol scoffed. “You’re not making any sense. Are you calmer now, at least?”

The boy could felt the weight shift on the mattress before he saw Baekhyun turning towards him on the bed, hair plastered against his temples and lip ring glistening over the puffy skin of his mouth. He looked strangely harmless like that, the kind of young lover Chanyeol would have hoped to have when he was still in highschool.

“Calmer?”

“You were nervous before, during the meeting and after,” said Chanyeol. He saw Baekhyun opening his mouth to protest and scoffed. “Don’t come at me trying to deny it. You bit me in the shoulder so hard that I don’t know how I am gonna explain it, if someone sees.”

“They’d be rude if they asked. And it looks pretty good on you, if you want my honest opinion,” replied Baekhyun, but he grimaced. “Sorry, Zero boy, I know that turning this into a bite mark parade wasn’t in the plan, but I, um, I may have been a bit restless.”

Chanyeol chuckled. “Not blaming you.”

Baekhyun closed his eyes and hummed, saying nothing, and for a moment Chanyeol thought that he would fall asleep right there, with his face to him and his fists clenched on the sheets, but then he spoke, in a vehement whisper.

“I’m close,” he said.

“Close?”  _ Ah. _

“Closer. Advancing. In the right direction, finally.” He opened his eyes to stare at Chanyeol, looking earnest and intense in a surprisingly open sense of the word, and the boy didn’t know what to say for a second. “You wouldn’t understand it, I guess, but I’ve been after something like this for years. I went after the Obelisk, time and time and time again, but I couldn’t get a lead. I was in a dead end, but now I have a lead to follow.”

“Yeah, I get it,” Chanyeol replied, grinning when Baekhyun raised his eyebrows. He had never looked for a lead to follow, of course not, but he had been stuck all the same. Before Baekhyun’s future had been altered forever, Chanyeol had already been lost. He wondered, sometimes, in which of the schools in town Baekhyun had studied. They have never been in the same class, but they could have - two kids of the same age, their lives total opposites. What would have they thought of each other then?

He had zoned out, and when he remembered where he was, finally saw Baekhyun - his present self - looking at him with a frown. “I should thank you, kind of. You started it all, your arrival set it in motion.”

“Well, all the more reasons for you to treat me well.” Chanyeol leaned on his elbow, his chin on the palm of his hand. He could feel Baekhyun’s warm breath on his skin, a regular cadence. He could have kissed him, then, to prove a point, except for the fact that they never did unless it came before sex. “And, for your information, this whole  _ advancing _ issue would have happened much sooner if you would have just told me what was going on instead of doing everything your way.”

Baekhyun groaned, hiding his face in the pillow. “My way worked just fine.”

“Yeah, so well that things started to actually go well the second you let me in. Let me tell you, Baekhyun, that I’ve been ranking in competitive M.O.N.S.T.E.R for years and things never go too well for solo players. If you cooperate with your team and know where your strengths and weaknesses are… That’s when you win.”

Baekhyun’s closed fist hit him square in the shoulder. It was a weak blow, but the muffled grown that came from the point where the boy’s face was buried in the pillow was anything but. “I can’t believe you’re giving me life advice based on your experiences in an IVR shooting videogame.”

“I made a living out of that videogame,” Chanyeol replied, grabbing Baekhyun’s wrist. Again, to prove a point. “That thing you’re thanking me for, I managed to achieve it because of that videogame, so stop speaking about M.O.N.S.T.E.R like my mom and admit that I have a point when it comes to my teamwork speech.”

“Yes, sir,” came from the pillow. One second after, Baekhyun’s head emerged, with even messier hair and a lopsided grin. “I have to admit, though, Zero boy, that you’re way more prepared than what I thought you would be when I met you. You’re a clever kid, I like clever kids. That, and your pre-rebel life seems more interesting than mine ever was. Not everyone pays bills by killing people in a battle arena; my teenage self would have seen the appeal. All I did was go to school and paint and study.”

_ Your teenage self was probably too busy being happy.  _ “Hey, being the kid with no Destiny wasn’t exactly fun.”

“I thought you didn’t believe in the power of Destiny, though…?”

Chanyeol sighed, releasing Baekhyun’s hand. “And I don’t. No way. I want to think that, if I ended up here, it was because I had something to say in my own choices.”

“But doesn’t that mean you can lose?” the other boy replied. He sat on the bed, the covers falling off. He looked kinda lovely and kinda impossible, as the sun setted at the other side of the window and beyond the Dome. “If you’re not here for a reason, because the universe wants you to, then you have no way to know if you’re on track. You are accepting you might be mistaken, or lose, or be defeated.”

“And you can’t?”

“I’m turning that universe right.”

He stood up, a naked shadow in the middle of the room, black hair and soft skin and fingers locked together at his back. He’d been wounded and patched up, the lines of his scars barely visible, like the small traces of constellations, and for a moment Chanyeol was tempted to believe him, if even a little bit, only because his words seemed to make sense to him as he spoke.

_ Who used to be Baekhyun? _ At times like those, he wondered.

“Don’t you miss it?” he asked out loud, and Baekhyun turned towards him.

“Miss what?”

“Your life. You just said that my teenage life was more interesting than yours but isn’t what you had years ago what you’re fighting to avenge? You’re here because they took it from you and you want it back.”

“I can’t have it back.”

“Still.”

“Throw me that sweater, would you? The one on the bed.”

It was Chanyeol’s. The boy threw it anyway. He had learned that Baekhyun got cold, sometimes, especially if he was tired. He spoke too, when he was. And he did, after burying his hands on the too-long sleeves and covering his head with the hood.

“Do I miss my old life, in itself? I don’t know. Do I miss being deceived? I probably do.” he said, shrugging. It was Chanyeol’s turn to sit up on the bed, and he didn’t miss the other man’s eyes, trailing the movement. “You look like one of those good kids, that fight for the sake of knowing, or for justice. Zero boy, the hero. Tell me one thing: would you choose to go back to ignorance if someone gave you the chance? If that fancy Doctor Lu from the Obelisk came and offered you a memory wipe and the little white envelope you always wanted for yourself would you say yes? Others would be fucked, yeah, in this system, but not you. Would you say yes?”

For a second, Chanyeol considered it. A white letter on the kitchen of his mother’s house, a peaceful job, his family being proud of him. M.O.N.S.T.E.R being just another hobby he was good at, and Byun Baekhyun nothing more than a potential hook-up at a bar before a second letter came, to tell him who was really meant for him. That kind of life.

“I--” Chanyeol started. Inside of the Dome, or in M.O.N.S.T.E.R, there wasn’t even a sky. “I don’t think so?” he felt more sure of it as he said it, as if it was obvious once stated out loud. “How would I? This world… It was unfair to me. I always knew that some things were amiss. I don’t want any part in letting this go on.”

“You see? My hero. Not an obedient boy at all; you’re dangerous to them. You fight for justice, don’t you? Or for what you think it’s right, at least. But me, Zero? I’m an egoist.” Baekhyun bowed his head, like an spoiled prince or the main dancer of an Old Era play, greeting his public after a show. “Do I miss being a young promise of the Dome? Would I rather go back to being the first of my class and having a promising life in front of me instead of making a living out of shooting the Obelisk army in the face? Not necessarily. I enjoyed that, I enjoy this. I’m at the spotlight, the center of attention.  _ But.  _ If Doctor Lu came and offered that to me: a way to a past where I was not robbed, and where I could live in ignorance while someone else got fucked up in my place… Well, I wouldn’t doubt for a second. I’d take it. I never cared for the rest of the world; I was only fighting back because they were chasing me.”

“But you hate them.”

“Yeah. Because they caught us.”

It was there, the weight of the tiniest lump inside of Chanyeol’s throat. It wasn’t because of Baekhyun himself, it wasn’t that, but because of the way he was looking at him, defiant and intense, and because of the weight of the only letter Chanyeol had received in high school, the only thing that the Dream had wanted to show him.

The only thing they two had in common - their Destined person, gone.

“You must miss him,” he said, without even knowing why he was voicing the thought aloud.

Baekhyun stared at him, smug smile still on his face, dissolving little by little, like it was made of wet clay. He sucked the lip ring into his mouth, when the last traces of it were gone. He never took the damn piercing off. “I-- Yeah,” he replied. “I guess. I don’t remember the sound of his voice anymore.”

_ Was he kind?  _ Chanyeol was about to ask. He didn’t, in the end, because Baekhyun had his hands in his pockets, and his eyes on the window, and Chanyeol had seen him happy, and serious, and angry, laughing at Commander Wu’s face, and complaining after losing a M.O.N.S.T.E.R game and panting, breathless, against his mouth, but that was the first time that Byun Baekhyun had been sad in front of him. And it was weird. It didn’t fit him. It looked so foreign on his face.

“Why do you think Dreamers don’t run?” Chanyeol asked, before he could stop himself. “I mean if… If everything is like the Obelisk wants us to believe, and if they’re able to see the future when they sleep… Don’t they know our government searches for them to kill them? Why don’t they escape?”

Baekhyun walked back to the bed and he sat on the floor before it, knees on the wood, shoulders on the mattress. “They don’t see the future, they Dream about Destiny. It’s a different thing. And Destiny is… It is what it is. Why run, if you’re meant to be captured? It’ll happen eventually, right? Dreamers are much more entangled in the great scheme of things than you or me: they’re chosen. Yixing’s situation was not the same, because he saw us both running away and boarding a train with me to escape, just the two of us. He was an exception, his path was different and he got killed because of it, I suppose, but the other Dreamers, like this Joohyun girl… What to do about it, if you see yourself being taken? They tend to be fatalists. That’s who they are.”

Chanyeol sighed. “You seem to know a lot about Dreamers.”

“I read a lot about them, back then. I wanted to be informed, you see. Not that it helped much, but it’s not that I had many hobbies either, right after everything went to shit.” Baekhyun’s bangs were still too long, and for a moment Chanyeol was tempted to comb them away from his eyes with his fingers. In the end, he just placed his hand in the joint between his neck and his shoulder.

“Not that you have that many hobbies now either,” he tried to joke. Blinking, Baekhyun looked up at him, and for a panicked heartbeat, Chanyeol thought that the other boy, who had been all heavy-hearted, would be upset at him.

“Hey,” he said instead, in a matter-of-fact voice that made Chanyeol both breathe in peace and crack a smile. “I have hobbies. Many hobbies.”

“For example?”

“Training?”

“It’s not a hobby if it’s part of your job!”

“It’s not my fault if I work at something I like,” Baekhyun said, poking Chanyeol in the thigh. “I like shooting too, I’m good at it.”

“And anything else? Something less violent?”

Biting his lip, deep in thought, Baekhyun actually stopped to consider it. “I like M.O.N.S.T.E.R,” he stated, and Chanyeol couldn’t help but snort at him.

“Since when? Last week? Also, I said non violent.”

“You said less violent. And it’s a pretty valid hobby. You see, I’ll beat you eventually.”

“Well, okay, that’s a hobby. You said you had many. I’m still waiting.”

Baekhyun’s eyes narrowed. He climbed onto bed, both hands on Chanyeol’s shoulders. “I can think of another thing I like doing,” he practically purred.

_ And then he says I’m easy to guess. _ “That definitely doesn’t count.”

Clicking his tongue, Baekhyun withdrew, lying down on the mattress diagonally, hands under his head. “Ah, and here I was, hoping I would distract you off the topic. Stubborn, baby boy, stubborn.” He was trying his best to appear all offended, but in the end he snickered. He remained quiet after that, for a while. “I suppose that I don’t have that much stuff I like doing on my free time. Is your point proven?”

“In your defense, you made a cake.”

“The fucking cake. Part of me was hoping you’d get diarrhea.”

“How nice you are.”

“Right?” Baekhyun blinked up at him, like he was the purest child in the world. “A very nice man who doesn’t have a life outside of his job, according to you. But there’s… my doodling, though.”

“Ah, true. You mentioned that.”

The pile of Baekhyun’s notebooks was still on his desk. That night, it was buried under a couple of black stained t-shirts, but Chanyeol could still see the shape of it. He saw Baekhyun hesitate, lips slightly parting, as if he were planning to speak, but then he stood up and walked towards it. He made a face when lifting the t-shirt, then returned slowly, carrying a notebook and a pencil.

“Leave me space. You’re on my bed,” he demanded. Chanyeol scooted towards the side closest to the wall.

“Woah. You gonna draw me?”

“No. I don’t like drawing people, I told you. And especially not  _ you. _ ” Baekhyun paused, tapping his pencil on his lip. His other has was firmly closed on one side of the notebook, like he wanted to avoid it being open by accident.

“Does my M.O.N.S.T.E.R character count as a person?”

Baekhyun hit him in the head with the notebook. Chanyeol wondered if he would open it, if he would show him. There was an itch at the tip of his fingers - he wanted to see. “What you looking at, huh, Zero?”

Chanyeol gulped. Baekhyun sounded almost like he was teasing him, but his head was bent and his eyes were lidded and the line of his mouth was set but soft. Such an unSigma-like expression.

“I-- You could draw the sky,” he blurted.

At his side, Baekhyun snapped out of whatever reverie he’d been in. “The sky?” he repeated, frowning in confussion when Chanyeol nodded. “As in the thing outside of the Dome? Why would you want me to draw it?”

_ Oh, well.  _ Chanyeol bit his lip. He wasn’t sure of why he had let that slip. It was a stupid thing, Baekhyun would laugh at him. He was a terrible creature, he would totally mock him… maybe? “Um. I like it?”

“The sky,” Baekhyun said once more. He chuckled, softly, but there was no bite in it. “Have you ever  _ seen _ it, Zero? There’s a glass wall above.”

“I noticed,” Chanyeol replied, sighing. “But I still like it. The concept of it.”

“Care to elaborate on your train of thought? I’m curious.”

Baekhyun’s fingers were still wrapped against his notebook, long and delicate and not white because of the pressure anymore. “I haven’t talked about it before,” Chanyeol said. “It’s just a random thought that comes into my head sometimes.”

“I promise not to use it against you,” Baekhyun replied with the smallest smile. “Come on, Zero boy, aren’t you going to tell me your secrets? Why would you like something you’ve never seen?”

_ And why would you believe in a concept that you can’t completely prove right?  _ “It takes faith,” Chanyeol said, as a reply for the question he’d been asked, and for the one he hadn’t voiced out loud. He leaned back onto the pillows, staring at the ceiling instead of at Baekhyun, with his pretty face and his silver eyes. “I’ve read it’s blue during the day, and that it turns black at night, full of tiny dots of light. That it’s like an endless expanse, everywhere above you, a magical thing straight out of Old Era tales but… real. I want to see how it looks, how big it is and how far over our heads it rises. There’s never a sky, not even in M.O.N.S.T.E.R. We get this grey thing, in every map, and I don’t know-- I just wonder. Does it make sense?”

At his side, Baekhyun’s weight shifted and the headboard creaked. “No,” Chanyeol heard him say. His heartbeat sped up, but before he could tell the other boy to forget all that, he felt fingers on his forehead, brushing his hair away from his eyes. “But it’s kinda cute.”

“Is that a way of laughing at me?”

“Nah, it’s just-- The sky is out of this place. You’d have to leave the Dome to see it. Would you?”

Chanyeol felt relieved. Baekhyun’s hand was slightly cold, fingers just the littlest bit rough on the tips. “And go where, to one of the other rumoured Domes? Do you think they really exist?”

“Well, we are supposed to be in war with someone, so there should be other cities, huh?” replied Baekhyun. “You were about to be sent out to the army, too. I guess you would have seen the sky then. Screwed up in a general sense but watching your dream come true, at least.”

“Yeah, I thought so too. Not the way I wanted to run away from here, though.”

When Chanyeol looked up, Baekhyun had his eyes closed. “Run away,” he whispered. “Did you really want to, at any point?”

The question was simple enough, but Chanyeol didn’t know. “I never contemplated it exactly, but I hated this city.”

Baekhyun’s laugh was short and sharp. “That makes two of us. That, in fact, is what I do with my free time. Hate on this place, viciously, and train to burn it down. It consumes more hours than you’d think.”

Chanyeol turned towards him. “ _ All _ of your hours.”

Baekhyun gave him a big, obnoxious smile. “That’s adulthood for you. I’m a man dedicated to my job. I train, and then shoot at things, and then I’m too tired and sleep like a baby.”

“You’re into games now, though.”

“Because you showed me M.O.N.S.T.E.R and I won’t tolerate being referred as  _ bad _ at that thing. You touched my pride, baby boy, I have to prove myself right even if it means sacrificing efficiency.”

He had released the notebook, that now lied closed between them, momentarily forgotten, as Baekhyun made a show of pretending to punch Chanyeol in the shoulder.  _ Inefficiency,  _ the boy thought.  _ Is that what it is? _

\---

That line of thought came back to him not much later, when Chanyeol was getting out of a fancy store in Fourth Ward with Jongdae. The order had been approved, for him to have his own wrist comm, and the best way to get all the programs they needed working fast was to buy a normal one and had Kyungsoo customize it.

Baekhyun wasn’t with them. He knew the city well, but he had made a face when Chanyeol had asked him to come along.  _ That’s almost like grocery shopping,  _ he had complained.  _ Fancy grocery shopping. Not for me. _

Chanyeol hadn’t thought about him, not until he had been walking towards the metro with Jongdae, across a crowded shopping street. He had seen the store, then, the kind of place he wouldn’t have stared at twice, if it wasn’t because of reasons.

“Jongdae, hey,” he called. “Do you know how this Yixing guy was?”

Jongdae had been complaining about Kyungsoo, and his creepy lab, and the creepy doll legs he had everywhere, but he stopped in mid-sentence to stare at Chanyeol, mouth gaping open. “Do you mean Yixing as in Sigma’s Yixing?”

“That one.”

“Why would you be asking about him?” he said, then he sighed. “He was Baekhyun’s boyfriend, he was young when he was taken. Baekhyun went to look for him and he had already been killed.”

“Do you think he was nice?”

“I didn’t know him? I guess he was, considering how Sigma is willing to step over literally everyone and burn half of this town to avenge him. I wouldn’t do that for a mediocre kind of guy, or one I didn’t love very much. But it’s not like Sigma spends his days talking about him, so...”

“Yeah.” Chanyeol nodded. “Thank you. Could you wait for me while I do something?”

“Huh?”

“We have extra credits, right? I’m going to get something from that store.”

“Wait, are you into scrapbooking or something…?”

Jongdae had followed him into the shop that Chanyeol had seen at the other side of the street. He looked like he was seriously judging him, but he didn’t oppose at Chanyeol spending the credits in something that was not strictly mission related - it could count as his allowance, the boy supposed, since he  _ had _ been working for them for food and equipment and a bed to sleep in - not even when the shop assistant gave him something very pretty and very overpriced. Chanyeol didn’t have much knowledge about that, and he hoped he wasn’t being scammed.

“Do you want me to wrap it for you?” the girl had asked, all smiles. Chanyeol had hesitated, but said no in then end, even though the girl had ended up tying a crimson ribbon around it.

Jongdae had gone to get his well deserved dinner as soon as they had arrived home, and Chanyeol had thought about going to his own room to change, or get sleep, or contemplate his life choices, but in the end he had grabbed his pretty red bag and went downstairs.

Baekhyun was about to go out from the gym when Chanyeol found him. He was all sweaty, looked tired, with his hair plastered against his forehead and his skin slightly flushed. He still wore the lip ring, glistening in the middle of his bottom lip, and the chain attached to it swayed like the string of a pendulum when he smiled at him.

“Ah, you’re back. Got your new shiny little comm, I assume?” he said. He saw the bag in Chanyeol’s hand then. “Is that it and you’re coming to show me? Or is that a present for yours truly?”

Chanyeol took a step forward. Breathed in. “It’s some sort of present, yeah. Or more like a thing that I thought you should have.”

If Baekhyun felt even remotely puzzled about the idea of Chanyeol bringing him something from his shopping trip, he didn’t let it show. He even smirked as he took the bag from him. “Ah, so we’re at that point in our relationship where you give me things, and inside of a pretty present packaging, no less. Don’t mind me if I open it in front of you, what did you…?” For a moment, the corridor was in absolute silence, except for the steps of someone walking on the floor above. It was a rhythmic, light sound.  _ Tap, tap, tap, tap. _ And then. “Zero?”

“I had to ask at the store, so I hope it’s decent. It was Minseok’s money, so...”

“Yeah, but this is…” Baekhyun looked at him, hesitating, then lowered his eyes towards the thing he was holding in his hands: a sketchbook, of thick creamy pages, that the shop assistant had wrapped with a ribbon of crimson red string. “It’s a shame. I’m not going to use it anyway.”

There it was again. The way that Baekhyun’s whole face had softened, like that time he had brought one of his cheap notebooks to bed and had observed the cover, closed. He had looked a bit sad, then, and it’s not like Chanyeol wanted to make him feel down, but--

“I don’t care, keep it. Not my money anyway.”

Baekhyun kept staring at it, silent, his bangs all over his eyes. He clicked his tongue in the end. “Our dear leader is going to be all upset. How much did you spend on this, baby boy, and to what end? You were supposed to spend the credit you got from him in a comm.”

“I got my comm. And Jongdae saw me walk into that artsy store and thought I was into scrapbooking.”

Baekhyun laughed, bending his head back. “Well, maybe you should. It’s not like you have that many non violent hobbies either. Scrapbooking would make you appealing.”

“You think so?”

“No.” Baekhyun snorted at him, giving him a pat in the back. “Not a chance. But hey? Zero boy.”

“Yeah?”

“You’re the king of useless presents, but thank you. I’ll take care of it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So. This was mostly a ChanBaek chapter. We'll be back to the usual programming of people shooting other people in the next chapter :D
> 
> Meawhile, I'd love to hear your opinions, so dont hesitate to comment!
> 
> I'm also on twitter: https://twitter.com/babyeoI  
> On tumblr: https://baby-yeol.tumblr.com/  
> And on curiouscat: https://curiouscat.me/babyeol
> 
> Say hi to me if you want, and I'll see you next chapter! (in February!)


	13. Login 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone!
> 
> Sorry for the hiatus in updates - I had a BAE fic to write - but I'm finally back, with a very lomg chapter to compensate for the absence!
> 
> I hope you like this one! I'll be back with the monthly updates from now on~

**Login 12**

 

They weren’t there to play games.

Chanyeol had gotten it all from Jongdae: a blaster, new and surprisingly light for his size, a smaller pistol, a new pair of black combat boots, a utility belt and a full body suit, made of some sort of stretchy material. “Are you sure this thing will fit?” he had half-protested, caressing the fabric with the tip of his fingers. He had thought it’d feel soft, but it was rough, a little bit like sawpaper. “How did you even manage to get my size?”

“Sigma chose it. Don’t worry much about it; those things adapt to the body.”

“Can’t I just wear my regular clothes?”

“You’re going on an open mission, Chanyeol. So no, Minseok’s orders.”

Baekhyun had been wearing one of those all that time ago, when he had broken into his cell to bring him to the rebels. He had looked hot in it, okay, in some strange, dangerous way, but Chanyeol had always doubted that clothes like that could be comfortable. He was surprised when Jongdae made him try his out and the suit just wrapped against his body like it was more liquid than solid. Chanyeol tried to pinch the fabric over his abdomen, but the outer part of it felt surprisingly rigid.

“Ah, it fits you well. I’m glad to know: we don’t have much time and those are complicated to obtain, not to mention expensive. That’s WaveTech for you. It’ll protect you against hits, and blaster shoots to some extent, while still letting you move freely.”

Chanyeol had flexed his gloved fingers. “Good,” he said. “But can I get a jacket or something to wear over it?”

He had in the end found one short enough not to get in the way of the utility belt around his waist, and Jongdae had complained a great deal about it, but he was the one going out there for a mission and he felt much better with the familiar shape of cotton over his suit and with a hood he could cover his head with. That wouldn’t do much at being practical or keeping his identity hidden, but it made him calm anyway.

It was D-day, that night. And he tried to convince himself that he was ready, as he checked that his smaller gun, his portable Breaking device and his share of emergency signal flares were safely attached to his belt, and proceeded to strap his blaster to his back. He was doing that, yeah, and he felt the electric thrill of adrenaline as he headed from the weapon room towards Minseok’s office at the end of the corridor.

Jongdae was the only one missing when he arrived, but he made it soon after, bowing his head slightly to Kyungsoo as he walked in. Neither he nor Kyungsoo nor Minseok were wearing field suits, but they already had communication headsets over their ears and left eyes.

“Are we in schedule?” he asked.

“Yes. We will be leaving now,” replied Minseok. “We should be arriving at the control center assigned to us in thirty minutes, to start the mission in one hour. We’ll summarize the details again once we arrive and meet with our contact from headquarters. So, are you all ready?”

“Very,” replied Baekhyun. He was standing next to the door, back against the wall, arms crossed over his chest and eyes lidded, the metallic silver of them half hidden under the shadow of his eyelashes. Since that day at the cell, Chanyeol hadn’t seen him in his field WaveTech suit, but he looked so confident in it as the boy remembered - same as Jongin, who was checking his own weaponry, brow frown. Chanyeol didn’t want to think about how much he’d be risking his life by getting into such a mission with those two. “So I assume everything is going according to plan?”

“Yes, but Sigma, don’t get cocky.”

The boy rolled his eyes. “I just asked.”

The back of Baekhyun’s suit wasn’t fastened all the way up, Chanyeol noticed as all of them made their way to the entrance to the sewers, the zipper stuck on the fabric of his clothes between his shoulder blades. The boy had noticed, of course, because he reached for it, almost lazily, as he walked before him, but he pulled from the thing a little too violently to get any result. Chanyeol had to bit down a snort as he saw him try and fail to fight with the thing, gloved fingers pitch black over the patch of uncovered skin on his back.

They were going to the checkpoint drawing through the tunnels in an all-terrain black van. Chanyeol hadn’t been aware back when Baekhyun and him had used the old sewer system for transportation, but even if mostly abandoned, the insides of the Dome were hollow and many of the roads were in a good enough condition to travel on a vehicle. It had to move forward at a relatively slow pace, headlights making the darkness dissolve into yellowish light, but it was faster than walking. Less tiring too, which was good, because even though Chanyeol’s body felt very awake, the tips of his fingers tingling with electricity, he had the feeling that he’d need every little bit of energy he had.

Somewhere above their heads, someone would be preparing a Dreamer girl to be transported. Sleeping or awake, it doesn’t matter - she was still alive and it was his mission to retrieve her in one piece.

He had an objective. He had something to achieve. It was just like another M.O.N.S.T.E.R mission, only in real life.

_ Come on, come on, come on. _

“Ten minutes until we reach checkpoint,” Minseok told them from the driver’s seat. Kyungsoo nodded while he typed something on his comm, and Jongin had his eyes fixed in the fading darkness at the other side of the windshield, but Baekhyun, sitting beside him, poked him on the side with two fingers.

“Didn’t have the time to ask, but what’s with the sweater?” He gave him a smile full of teeth. “Too tight for you to go showing yourself around or what, Zero boy?”

“Sweaters make me feel comfortable.”

“ _ Really. _ ”

“Really. And I have to be at ease if I have to go out there and make sure you don’t get killed.”

Baekhyun chuckled, leaning his head against Chanyeol’s shoulder. “I am not destined to die, I told you,” he replied, poking him on the side again. “That and I’m a good professional. You know that I am here who takes care of you.”

“I am not the reckless one here.”

“Nah, you’re only that guy that made us jump down a railing.”

Chanyeol scoffed. “A very well thought out strategic move, if you ask me.”

He wasn’t looking at Baekhyun, but he could feel him smile, the same way he sensed him tense when the vehicle started decreasing speed. “We’re close. I’m doing this.”

“We are. Teamwork.”

“Teamwork,” Baekhyun repeated. “You always make it sound so pretty.”

He was still struggling with his zipper when they went out of the van into a dimly lit tunnel that looked like it had been repaired recently - not by the Obelisk, if Chanyeol had to guess, but it had been repaired nonetheless, so the walls were sturdy and the floor was greyish concrete. How many the rebels were, Chanyeol had never asked. Minseok had said that he himself didn’t know.

“Over here,” their team leader instructed them, pointed at a set of metal stairs that disappeared into a hole in the ceiling. “We’re being expected.”

“Let them,” replied Baekhyun, but he was the one to go first, holding onto the bars tentatively for a second before he started climbing, fast.

Chanyeol went second to last, right before Jongdae. He didn’t know what he had expected, but it wasn’t to arrive to the corner of an enormous room, ceilings high and walls devoid of windows, two of them completely empty and the remaining ones almost completely covered in screens.

“Wow, that’s one impressive map,” he whispered, walking towards the biggest one, a huge retina screen that showed a whole interactive depiction of the Dome. Kyungsoo was over there already, frowning at the bright line that crossed the streets from the white obelisk-shaped tower at the center of town to one of the facilities at the outskirts. He typed something on his own wrist comm and the hologram shifted from a bird-like view of the city to a fixed camera atop one of the tallest buildings of Second Ward.

“I’ll design it,” Kyungsoo said. “I’ll be navigating you three.”

“So is this place yours?” asked Chanyeol.

“Not the place. The computers, yes. This has been lent to us for the duration of this mission. The Obelisk will find this room eventually, and I have no interest in them confiscating my equipment.”

“Won’t they be able to track you, anyway?” Chanyeol started asking, but he rejected the moment Kyungsoo turned to look at him, lips pressed and foot tapping on the floor. “I mean, we’ll be using a communication channel. What if they breach it?”

“They won’t.”

Chanyeol had asked with the best of intentions, but Kyungsoo was staring at him like he was some sort of ignorant five year old, and the boy pitied Jongdae for a moment for having to endure working with the guy for hours on end. Sighing, he turned around to Baekhyun, who was at the other side of the room, greeting the guy who had been bent over the keyboard of the main computer there.

He was tall as hell, that guy, even more than him, with big hands, a broad torso and a very angry expression to match. Chanyeol remembered that, the same way he remembered the black hair and the leather clothes. It took him half a second to remember where he had seen the man. “Wait, is that Bonecrusher?”

Baekhyun looked at him from over his shoulder, grinning. “Oh, see? Zero boy has such a good memory. He remembers you from that day.”

Chanyeol went to where the boy was. He looked so happy, the asshole, as if the last time the three of them had met they had spent the night talking about their life plans and drinking tea. “What is this guy doing here?” he asked.

“He’s with us. In another rebel unit but, you know, still against this beautiful, beautiful city. Do you want me to introduce you two again?” replied Baekhyun, his voice velvet.

“So back then he let us in because he knew you from work?”  _ You left me alone back then to talk about fucking work? You must be kidding me. _

“Be polite. Apparently, it was very hard for him to explain to his big club bosses how armed people had made it into the place. He almost got fired because of it.”

It would have been easier to feel bad about Bronecrusher’s job complications if Baekhyun had sounded at least a bit apologetic while he was explaining it to him - or if Bonecrusher hadn’t looked like he wanted to, well, crush Chanyeol with his massive fists or something.

“That problem is solved,” the guy said. Even there, under the bright light of the room, he looked like a modern-era gravedigger. “I’ll be working with your unit tonight, in charge of communication between your patrol and my men. They’ll be the ones creating a distraction.”

Baekhyun bowed his head just a little bit. “We’ll be in your hands, then.”

Oh, well, that sounded comforting. Especially because Chanyeol didn’t know if the guy disliked him or if he just had a very prominent resting bitch face.

“Ah, Bonecrusher, good night,” greeted Minseok then, coming to shake the man’s hand.

Was he really called like that by  _ everyone _ ?

“Xiumin,” Bonecrusher greeted back. “My people are already in position.”

“Good. Is everything still according to plan?”

“Communication is up with Joy’s patrol as well. She says that the route seems to remain as planned. The backup squad is also there to provide assistance, so we’re only missing your team on the field.”

“I see. Then, let’s get this done,” said Minseok. Jongin had come closer while they introduced themselves, just in time to accept the small comm vision aid that the leader of the rebels took from the table to offer both him and Chanyeol. “These should already be connected to our central system and synchronized with your comms. We’ll use those for visual aid, so keep them on for the whole mission.”

“Okay.”

“We’ve been over the route before,” added Kyungsoo. Following his command, the map displayed on the biggest screen zoomed out again, enough to show the whole red line of the route marker, bright over the streets like a trail of blood. “Miss Bae Joohyun will be taken from the Obelisk tower to one of the factories at the outskirts, and our objective is intercept the high security vehicle transporting her, and force it open. We don’t know the state she’ll be in, as there isn’t exactly a report on that information we have gotten our hands into, but our priority is to get her alive. Joy’s squad will take care of getting her to safety, so your mission after that happens is to cover them, then get out yourself. Is it understood?”

“Understood. As if we wouldn’t get it after how many times you have explained it in these last few days,” replied Baekhyun with a teasing grin.

Kyungsoo deadpanned at him. “I consider repeating it to you many times a necessary evil.”

“You’ll have us and Bonecrusher on comm. We’ll have hacked into a couple of security vigilance networks, so we’ll be able to guide you,” added Jongdae, coming to stand close to Chanyeol.

Minseok nodded. “Yeah. The area chosen to intercept the vehicle has been chosen not only because it’s the safest, both for you and civilians, but because we have coverage there. We’ll keep our eyes on you, so don’t stray from the plan.” He patted Chanyeol on the shoulder. “We’ll be counting on you.”

The boy nodded, trying not to grimace at the way the words had been directed at him specifically. He could feel the weight of his blaster on his back.

\--

“So. Surprised to see good, old Bonecrusher, weren’t you?”

Chanyeol adjusted his hood over his face, one hand still on the railing. Their team was finally in position, Jongin hidden at the bottom floor of the building and Baekhyun and him on the rooftop, overlooking an empty road. Normal people didn’t like to go to that part of town unless they had to work there, and normally it was only the ill fated and some Dreamless who did - or the lucky enough to get hired, Chanyeol guessed. High-level Obelisk officers had jobs at the official facilities, that much was true, but the people working at the factories that surrounded them hadn’t been really lucky where Destiny was involved.

Perhaps that would have been his fate too, once his M.O.N.S.T.E.R days were over, if Baekhyun hadn’t come around. “Last time I saw him, he was a bouncer at Black Light. How did you want me to feel now that I know that he’s into rebellion and supercomputers in his free time.”

Baekhyun hummed, drumming on the railing with his index finger. It was a fast rhythm,  _ plic plic plic plic. _ “You never know who’s going to be one of us. That’s the hard part.”

If he looked, Chanyeol could easily guess where the residential and commercial areas started, far far down the road where the neons started. The colored lights were gone where they are, in favor of simple yellowish lampposts signaling down below and total darkness in the closed factory in front of them. Jongdae had said that one had been stopped for maintenance. They only ever closed for that. “I’m one of you and I don’t even know who most of the others are.”

“Because you’re here for fieldwork, not intelligence or support. You won’t be working better if you know. Same for me too. Now, Bonecrusher is a special case, but I don’t know most of the others.”

“Worked with that guy before?”

There he was, Baekhyun mindlessly reaching to pull up from his stuck zipper again. He did it like it didn’t matter, the movements calculated even if he just seemed to be following an instinct. He kept grinning at him as he regarded him. “What’s with the tone? You’re speaking like he annoyed you, you know?”

“Nah.” The factory in front of them was huge, a looming structure of chimneys and concrete, like a slumbering dragon.

“You just didn’t hit it off the first time,” continued Baekhyun, a teasing glint in his eyes. “Was it because I abandoned you to go to talk to him?”

“No.”

Baekhyun pulled from his zipper up again. He was making such a mess about such a simple thing. “I had to inform the guy about what we were doing in his club. Don’t get angry at me, it was nothing personal.”

He was teasing, of course he was. Sighing, he left his place at the railing and moved behind Baekhyun. “Nothing’s ever personal when it comes to you.” He felt the other boy flinch in alert when he placed one hand on his back. “Let me. You’ve been at this for an hour.”

“It’s stuck,” he protested, turning his head to try to look at him. Chanyeol hummed in confirmation. He could see the small fold of fabric trapped in the zipper, so he pulled from the area around it, slowly, until it came out. 

“It has to be done carefully. You get too rough with things when you’re nervous,” he said, pulling the zipper up until the stripe of skin between Baekhyun’s shoulder blades was once again covered in black. He would have sworn that he felt the boy shiver.

“I, uh-- Yeah, whatever,” he murmured, taking one hand to his nape. He blinked and turned to stare at the night landscape below them. “Thanks, I guess.”

“Yeah.”

Baekhyun remained silent for a while, fingers now still on the railing. It was dark enough for his eyes to appear black instead of metallic silver, and Chanyeol wondered what was he staring at and what did he see. He finally spoke when the boy moved back to his previous place at his side. “Did you know you’re team leader?” he murmured.

“Eh?”

“In Minseok’s mind. He hasn’t told you, I think, maybe to avoid putting pressure on you, but he asked me to listen to you. So it’s not official, but...”

“Which means you’ve been told to obey?” Chanyeol asked back. “Are you okay with that?”

“I thought we agreed on me not being the brain in this team. I am the kind of thing you unleash for destruction, Zero boy. I’m great at trusting my gut instinct, but I suck at telling others what to do.”

“And I do?”

“What can I say? You’re hot when you’re bossy.” He shrugged, but before Chanyeol could add anything else he stilled, the teasing light in his eyes hardening into a steely glow.

“What is it?” Chanyeol asked. The answer came into his own comm aid barely a second later, when the small screen over his eye lit up, a bright red thread-like line appearing at the corner of his vision. Jongdae’s voice was audible on his earphone just after.

_ “Headquarters to Team Four. Headquarters to Team Four, calling. Codename Chen here, assigned as the communication operator for Codename Zero. Do you hear me?” _

Chanyeol turned to look at the road. “Yeah.”

_ “I’ve forwarded the position map to the screen in your headset. You got it?” _

“I did.”

_ “Well then, you’re ready.” _ At Chanyeol’s side, Baekhyun was already squinting towards the Dome lights. If he paid attention, the boy could almost see the faint color of the data and images being projected on the comm embedded in his eye.

“They’re coming?”

Baekhyun’s lips twitched up. “You bet they are,” he said. “Finally, the thing I’m best at.”

“How far are they?” Chanyeol asked Jongdae.

_ “You’ll have them on the road before you in approximately three minutes,”  _ the other boy replied, as Baekhyun turned his head slightly to look at him, his pupils dilated wide.

“I can see them already.”

“Jongin, are you ready down there?” Chanyeol called through his comm.

_ “Yeah,”  _ came the reply, short and crisp.

_ “Remember the plan. You go in, you incapacitate, you stay there until the retrieval team goes for the girl and you get the hell away,  _ Jongdae repeated.  _ Zero, I’m counting on you.” _

“Yeah, don’t worry, understood.”

When Chanyeol looked at Baekhyun again, he saw him rolling his eyes at his own message from headquarters and sighed, walking to his side to watch the road below. He already had the impression that he was the one who’d need to keep a cold head there, considering how excited Baekhyun looked, but he was already starting to feel the thrill, himself. 

That girl they were transporting was a Dreamer, a living one, and there they were - there he was - dressed in high tech gear, armed to the teeth and waiting on a rooftop to save her. That was big, bigger than what anything they had done before, and his heart was already speeding up in his chest, clearing his vision and making him aware of the cool night air, the shape of Baekhyun, biting his lip beside him, and the slight noise of the vehicles that were already coming closer.  _ Come on, come on, come on. _

He knew there was something up when he felt the boy tense at his side.

“Baekhyun…?”

The other boy didn’t look up at him. “Interesting,” he whispered.

“What is?”

Chanyeol could see it, before Baekhyun could reply. The vehicles had come into his range of vision now, and there was only two of them, a black van and a support car leading its way, flanked by a couple of uniformed police on motorbikes. They advanced slowly, a clear target, standing out like a sore thumb on the empty road.

They might as well have carried a big neon sign with  _ attack me _ written on bright, red letters.

Chanyeol sighed. “Too easy.”

In response, Baekhyun chuckled. “How many men do you think they have with them? A couple of them in the car, then some more inside that van?”

“Maybe extra guys somewhere around these streets.”

“So no girl?”

“Probably not.”

“We don’t know about that, now do we?” Baekhyun smiled at him, all angelic. It never was a good sign when he did that.

_ “Zero?”  _ Jongdae called him through his comm. “ _ Can you update on your situation?” _

“Don’t you see that on your cam, too? Far too few cars, and too little security. It smells like a trap.”

“What a really nice smell, uh?” Baekhyun whispered, grin turning savage. “Oh well, we all knew it couldn’t be that easy.”

The vehicles were almost below the building, advancing all slowly, clearly on view. Chanyeol’s fingers closed on the railing - should they let them pass, maybe?

Minseok’s sudden voice on his comm sort of took the decision away from his hands. “ _ All units from my team, remain in position.” _

“Oh, really,” murmured Baekhyun. “We knew that the Obelisk was aware of us having their data, what were you expecting?”

_ “I said remain in position, Sigma. We won’t throw you in there without knowing what you’re up against.” _

“Oh, and by the Dream gracious, how do you intend to learn it if you don’t send a team to check?”

_ “We will”,  _ replied Minseok, and the teasing light from Baekhyun’s eyes went off again.

“Just not us.”

_ “Not one team made of three people. You were selected to strike fast, not to strike hard. Remain in position.” _

With a swift move, Baekhyun took the earphone of his comm out. “Whatever,” he grunted, staring down at the cars, with his back very straight.

_ “You’re a very valuable asset for us, Sigma”, _ Minseok started to say.

Chanyeol shook his head. “He’s not listening to you.” The only thing he got at the other side of the line was a long moment of silence and a sigh.

_ “Great. Zero, keep him in check, will you?” _

_ I’ll try,  _ Chanyeol would have liked to say, but in the end he just placed one hand on Baekhyun’s shoulder. He could feel the hardness of the other boy’s muscles under the suit and the skin, like a coil about to snap, even if he was still smiling, like a kid watching his favorite show. He silently cursed at Minseok for expecting him to make Baekhyun behave. He wouldn’t listen to him, right? No matter how insistently Chanyeol asked.

“Baekhyun--” he started.

The boy was watching the vehicles, that now were practically underneath them. His face fell over his eyes, his bangs too long, his eyelashes dark as the glass surface of the Dome in the dead of night. The grin was still there on his lips, like a slash of pale pink on his skin.

_ “Hey, Sigma, Zero,”  _ Jongin called through comm. “ _ Are we really following orders? Do we have to remain in position?” _

“They always think they’re so clever,” murmured Baekhyun. “They always risk when they play.”

“Yeah,” replied Chanyeol, more to Jongin than to Baekhyun. He kept his eyes on him and on the deceiptibly relaxed hand he kept on the gun on his belt.

_ “I don’t agree to this. We can’t be seriously thinking on missing this chance.” _

_ “Kai, we’re not missing the chance, we’re delegating onto another team.” _

Baekhyun tilted his head when the cars were just below. He sighed, obviously annoyed, but Chanyeol’s contact kept him in place. It had to be some kind of miracle.

_ “With all due respect, leader, those people killed my sister. I’ve not come here to delegate and let the bastards do that to another woman.” _

_ “Keep calm, that won’t happen. We’ll do it the best we can, yeah?” _

Ten more seconds and the two cars would have passed. Chanyeol held his breath, his heart a crazed bird trapped in his ribcage. Despite everything, Baekhyun’s fists were white where they closed around the railing.

_ “That was not the deal.” _

There was a succession of thuds at the other side of Chanyeol’s earbud and the boy frowned. “Jongin, are you online?” he called. He got no reply - which was wonderful, because now he was out on the field with two teammates who refused communication. Absolutely nice. “Baekhyun, could you at least wear--”

The boy bent over the railing, fingers still wrapped around the metal bar and eyes squinting. “Uh-uh,” he said. “This is going to be an inconvenience.”

_ “Sigma?”  _ Minseok asked.

“What is?”

With a sigh, Baekhyun turned around to face him. His index finger traced the curve of his jaw, from the chin to the soft skin under his ear. “Zero boy, if things get ugly I really want you to know that I listened to you at first. I didn’t go for them, right? When you asked me not to.” He pointed at the dark landscape below them before Chanyeol could even ask what he was going on about. “I knew from the start that that boy was a solo player. I know how to recognize my own people when I see them.”

Chanyeol lacked bionic eyes to see in the darkness but he noticed soon enough anyway - the silvery glimmer of a one-hand blaster in the hands of a man hidden behind a metal container between their building and the road.

“By the fucking Dream,” he hissed.

_ “Zero. What’s going on? We’ve lost the signal from his comm camera.” _

Smashing his own head against the railing wasn’t an option, so Chanyeol chose the second best thing and replied. “Jongin. He’s not only offline - he’s out there.”

_ “Out there?” _

“About to jump in front of the Obelisk convoy.”

Minseok remained silent for a while. “ _ We cannot allow that. Stop him.” _

“We’re still at the rooftop,” started Chanyeol, looking around him. They wouldn’t have time. They had to go down six floors by stairs, they wouldn’t make it. And still… “Okay, let me try.”

_ “Do what you need to, Zero, but prevent him from engaging!” _

And he said it like it was that easy. Great.

Baekhyun was putting his own earbud back into his left ear again while looking at Chanyeol like a kid about to be let loose in a candy store. “Instructions?” he asked.

“Get Jongin out before he makes a mess.”

“Well, let me give you a friendly piece of advice. You won’t be able to prevent someone from creating messes if that’s what they’re going for. They’ll find the way.”

Chanyeol should have realized that Jongin hadn’t been behaving exactly like his Jongin from the moment they had met his rebel persona. He should have been aware that he didn’t sound exactly happy when arguing with headquarters over the phone. The Obelisk had taken his sister away, and he had insisted over and over again on himself being in the retrieval team to get Bae Joohyun back. He should have known.

“Please Baekhyun, don’t make it worse,” he begged as he rushed for the stairs. How much time did he have to stop Jongin?  _ Shit. _

“I’m just saying it was inevitable, in case you get ideas about your own performance.”

His throat burned as he flew down the sets of stairs. It wasn’t long until Baekhyun, still faster than him, ran past him to lead the way. Chanyeol focused on him, trying to leave his mind as blank as he could, concentrating on the way his muscles tensed and relaxed with the motion to ignore the waves of crimson anger rising deep inside his chest.

He heard the shots and the voices when they were heading down from the first floor. Jongin was out. He cursed.

Baekhyun has one of his guns in his hand when Chanyeol, slightly panting, reached the ground floor. “Don’t go out,” he said, and Baekhyun tilted his head to look at him, a bird of prey with with his wings still folded.

He sighed. “ _ Zero, _ ” he started, but Chanyeol was already contacting headquarters.

“We were too late. Kai has engaged the enemy.”

He could hear both Minseok and Jongdae cursing at the other side of the line. In unison. Beyond the exit door, Jongin was dodging the shot of one of the uniformed guys on a motorbike as he advanced, relentless, towards the main vehicle of the convoy. He was good, as fast and graceful as his own character inside the M.O.N.S.T.E.R arenas, and exactly as remorseless, it seemed, considering the way he was shooting.

“I like his style,” murmured Baekhyun in approval.

“I don’t like what he’s doing,” replied Chanyeol, not exactly happy.

_ “Zero, remain in position,”  _ came through his earbud at the same time.

The message must have been directed to a common communication line because Baekhyun scoffed. “So we just stay here and let him get destroyed? Wow, and I thought I was the heartless bastard.”

_ “Reinforcements are on their way, Sigma.” _

“Good, we’ll distract these guys while they arrive. I might be able to kick some information out of one or two of them.”

_ “Sigma, you’ve got your orders. Listen to us and obey Zero on the field.” _

“Yes, my dearest leader.”

The second Obelisk officer fell from this motorbike with a loud thumping sound and a scream, and Jongin swiftly jumped over his fallen body, not even bothering to take care of him as he pursued the main vehicle. The black van had been steadily advancing, and kept doing so even with Jongin shooting at the wheels and one of them went off with a bang after a blast of energy collided with its surface.

_ No reinforced wheels?  _ Chanyeol held his breath.

At his side, Baekhyun took his own gun out and clicked his tongue. “I am going,” he announced.

_ “Sigma, you’re not.” _

“Baekhyun, we’ve got orders.”

The vehicle had come to a stop, the driver rushing out of her seat, trying to take Jongin off with a surprise shot of her own weapon. It would have worked, maybe, if her portable gun had taken just half a second less at loading the blast, or if Jongin hadn’t been so surprisingly skillful. He was faster and she fell with a scream.

Jongin turned towards the back door of the van.

_ “Inform of the situation, Zero.” _

“Look at that.” Baekhyun tilted his head in the direction of the lonely boy, as he walked calmly, still on guard. “You’re really going to make me miss all the fun?”

“The two guards and the driver of the vehicle are down,” Chanyeol told Minseok, tilting his head in his best attempt to make the camera capture the scene before him. “Kai’s approximating the vehicle now.”

To be more precise, he already had his hand on the handle of the back door. 

_ “Stay vigilant. Reinforcements will be there soon.” _

“Roger.” A crazy, stupid part of his mind wondered if Baekhyun would be able to hear the crazed thump of his heart. The boy must have - maybe - because he searched for his eyes in the dim light.

“You know something?” he said, a small smile on his lips. “I tried to be patient and follow orders, but that’s just not the way I work. Be brave or go home, Zero boy.”

The world around Chanyeol fell into slow motion for a second. Since he had started working with Baekhyun, he had started to develop an uncanny ability to sense when things were going to go to hell seconds before it all happened. So he knew that Baekhyun’s patience had worn off one heartbeat before the boy rushed out of the building, grinning. Almost as well as he knew that the vehicle before them was a wheeled trap.

Not like that one had been difficult to predict.

But the back door of the van slamming open on a guarded Jongin and the armed soldiers jumping out weren’t surprises, not really. What  _ was _ were the extra men heading out from the alleyways between buildings, and from the dark structure of the factory.

“Shit,” he cursed.

_ “Zero?” _

“Sigma’s out. And a whole troop of the Obelisk army is, too.”

_ “How many?” _

_ “Many.” _

_ “Listen to me, Zero. You have to remain--” _

“In position, yeah,” murmured Chanyeol as he stepped out.

He was going to kill Baekhyun. He was going to kill Jongin. He’d strangle them to death with his own two hands if they managed to return home in one piece, because they were  _ so _ outnumbered, and that was no good, and he was there in the middle of a fucking unfair fight with two people who had a golden trajectory of not listening to him. He guessed he’d had to compensate thinking for the three of them.

“Ah, so Zero joins the fun, eh?” Baekhyun called him, as soon as he saw him outside their previous shelter. He had his two guns out now, the bastard, and he hit some guy in the face with the butt of one of them, when he had the stupid idea to go and attack him. “Here’s what I always say. No one can take care of your own problems better than you do.”

“Don’t talk about this like me coming here to save your ass was my choice!” Chanyeol could feel the weight of his own blaster in his hands - the big one. It was heavier than his counterpart in M.O.N.S.T.E.R but the way of shooting it was, deep down, the same. He was now going to check how much his in-real-life practice had paid off. “I fucking swear--”

“Ah, but deep down you like it.”

“What? How much a pain in the ass you are?”

“Oh, come on, baby boy. Admit you find me endearing.”

“Dream gracious, no wa…” Chanyeol had to duck when he saw the red light of a blaster coming straight to his face. He shot in the general direction the attack had come from, then looked around to reposition himself.  _ Don’t let them hit you _ , he thought, world spinning but mind steadying as he took in his surroundings. They were caught in a less-than-favorable scenario, yeah, but that had happened before, back when Baekhyun and him had gotten in that Obelisk building before, in real life, and then in one thousand games within M.O.N.S.T.E.R. What would he do, if he was playing?

Cover. Turn defensive. Locate the enemies so he could fight back. 

He rushed forward, jumping to the right just in time to feel the heat of the energy bullet whistling barely a couple of centimetres away from the hood that covered his head.

_ Where?  _ There was one man in an alley, a second sniper in the first floor of a building, half hidden behind the broken shutters of a window. There were more soldiers ground level, at least a dozen of them and the problem was that they were in an open street with no cover… except for the van in the middle of it. He hoped it’d be bulletproof, as he ran under a rain of energy bullets to take cover behind its surface.

_ Eliminate the most dangerous first. _ He rose his gun and aimed at the surface, charging the beam to maximum potency before he fired. The broken shutters splintered on the first-floor sniper’s face.

“Violent!” he heard Baekhyun exclaim. Which was certainly funny considering that he was there in the heart of the fight, hitting people in the face with the butt of his guns. He did it again, shooting once and twice and thrice, then using the blunt body of his blaster for a back blow to the nose of the guy who was trying to tackle him from the back. Chanyeol grimaced at him before shooting the guy on the alleyway, with a loaded impact so hard it sent him flying back.

“And you say you didn’t like big guns!”

“I still don’t, but I’ll admit you’re decent at making them work!” Baekhyun laughed, then he swirled and went away from Chanyeol’s sight.

How many people left? How much time? At that potency, blasters weren’t lethal, and uniforms from the Obelisk were made of energy resistant technology too. They needed to take Jongin and leave.

Speaking of which…

“Kai!” he called out. “Kai, where are you?!” He got no reply. His arms were starting to hurt from holding his blaster up, but he fired a couple of times more, then leaned against the side of the vehicle, trying to catch his breath. “Hey, Kai!”

He felt it, then - the van swaying oh so slightly, side to side. He heard the grunt inside, and he couldn’t understand the words but he rushed to the back door anyway.

It was still open, the interior dark and empty except for two human shapes, one sprawled on the floor and the other straddling him, gloved fist raised in the air.

“Tell me,” he demanded, and Chanyeol recognized the voice as Jongin’s, even if the steel in it felt so foreign. “Where’s the girl? You’re moving her tonight after all, aren’t you?”

The man on the floor was squirming, legs sprawled and voice weak. “I don’t know,” he spat.

“Don’t lie to me!” Jongin snarled. He hit the guy in the face, once. Viciously. For a moment, Chanyeol forgot about the shots and the fight and Jongdae’s voice hollering on the comm aid in his ear. “You’re going to tell me. One way or another, you will. You hear me?”

Chanyeol finally caught his breath. “Kai…?”

“ _ You hear me?! _ ”

When he punched the man again, Chanyeol finally reacted. He climbed into the van and reached for his friend’s arm, fingers closing around his wrist to stop his fist from going down. He had to use a surprising amount of strength to keep him in place, even when Jongin’s attention shifted from the man on the floor to him almost completely.

“What are you doing?” asked Jongin. Chanyeol couldn’t see his expression, or barely anything at all, but he felt like recoiling away from his own friend anyway.

“No. What are  _ you _ doing? You went against your orders. You made me and Baekhyun follow you right into a trap. And now you’re-- Here, doing this?”

“It’s not a trap if you’re aware of what they’re doing,” replied Jongin. He managed to get himself free of Chanyeol’s grip the moment the other boy faltered, but that time he didn’t punch the fallen soldier - he went for his own gun instead. “Listen to me, Obelisk scum. You’ll tell me where the girl is or you’ll lose the capacity to say anything ever again. Understand?”

Chanyeol heard the metallic sound of the blaster being moved, saw the red light of its laser pointer as Jongin pressed the barrel of his gun against the soldier’s head. The man laughed. He sounded young, as much as them, even worse. “You don’t have the guts.”

Jongin’s voice was so soft that Chanyeol almost missed it. “I don’t? Test me, then.”

Something in the boy’s stomach churned. Jongdae was still calling him through his comm, and Baekhyun was fighting outside, and Jongin was there acting like he wasn’t the same guy who had been his friend for years, and he just wanted all of that to be over  _ now _ . So he went for the gun, as fast as he could. And he didn’t manage to grab it, but at least he slapped it away from Jongin’s hand. It fell to the floor with a metallic thud.

“What the fuck,” hissed Jongin

“You can actually kill someone with a blaster shot to the head!”

He had hands on his shoulders, pushing him back, and he realized too late that it was Jongin, trying to get him out of the vehicle. “That was exactly the point I was trying to make!”

“You’re being--”

“Get out.”

“But you can’t act like this!”

_ “Get out!” _

“Listen to me…” Chanyeol started to speak, but he hadn’t even given form in his head to the words he wanted to say when he saw a shadow moving behind them. “Watch out!” he shouted. And it was mostly instinct what kicked in and made him move to throw himself on Jongin, pressing his body against the metallic floor of the van, an automatic response as strong as the push of adrenaline that burned in his blood. He heard the blasts of energy going on, but he didn’t feel the pain or the burn - just the heat, in his shoulder and in his leg, and then the smell of charred flesh.

Strange. It was so strong, that smell.

“Zero?” Jongin called. Chanyeol’s head was spinning, but he felt so awake - awake enough, in fact, to grab his own, smaller gun, kneel, and shoot the soldier in the chest, then use the chance to jump to him and hit him in the head with the butt of his weapon. He had probably looked way less graceful than Baekhyun when he did it, but it  _ did _ feel satisfying. 

“Let’s go out,” he said.

“Are you okay?”

“Come on, let’s go!”

He could walk. He could run. His leg felt clumsier somehow, but it didn’t hurt so he forced himself to move before he could stop to think about it. Baekhyun was still alone, still unharmed and standing his ground. He smirked at him when he saw them approaching, but the expression froze on his lips when he looked at him. “You’re hurt?”

“I’m fine.” His leg was pulsing a bit, but Baekhyun didn’t need to know that. He was okay enough to take in his surroundings, and more than good to aim and shoot. Out of the dozen of men that had come out to ambush them, there was only two left standing, and he took out one. Baekhyun looked very serious as he fired a burst of quick shots to the last one.

They were the only three conscious people, suddenly, in the middle of a battlefield.

Baekhyun didn’t waste another second, he just clicked his tongue and make him turn. “That’s an ugly burn on your shoulder. It broke past the WaveTech of your suit, how close were you exactly when you…?” He stopped abruptly when Chanyeol swayed to the right, his muscle giving for one dangerous second. “They shot you in the leg too?”

He sounded upset, unlikely so, but now that the thrill of the fight was starting to fade from his mind he was starting to realize that he  _ was _ angry. “Yeah, because Codename Kai here is an idiot.”

Jongin had the decency to look apologetic for one whole second. “You were the one who interrupted me,” he ended up replying, crossing his arms over his chest. “Not to mention that you were the one who made me release the gun that he used on you.”

“Because you were going to shoot the guy in the head!”

“I was interrogating him, Chanyeol. Dead men give no answers.”

“So what? You were going to hit him until he did? What if he decided he didn’t want to, then?”

Jongin shook his head. “For the fucking Dream, Chanyeol, you’re a wanted criminal. Don’t go acting all soft on me! You won’t survive like this!” he exclaimed.

The Jongin he had always known was always kind. Among all of his friends, the one angry at the world had been Chanyeol from the start. But he was tired now, and his leg pulsed, and his back hurt. “I have been surviving alright so far, thank you.”

With a rather theatrical sigh, Baekhyun walked between them. “So,” he said. “If I understand correctly, Kai was punching someone in the face to interrogate him and Zero boy tried to stop him and got himself shot?” he asked. He rolled his eyes at Jongin when Chanyeol nodded. “Just… can you tell me what were you expecting a common soldier to say to you?”

“He could have known--”

“Yeah. Well, both of you are newbies here. It’s good getting to play the rebel, right? But don’t overdo it.” That sounded fun coming from Baekhyun, but Chanyeol wasn’t going to be the one to contradict him that night. The boy was holding him straight, one hand on the small of his back, and Chanyeol was secretly grateful for it when he tried to lean his weight on his injured leg. “Headquarters? Hey, dear leader, we’ve got a situation here. Yeah, Zero got shot.”

Chanyeol let out a shaky breath. “I am fine, but I don’t think we should stay in this road much longer.”

He had almost forgotten operator Jongdae for a moment. “ _ Zero, you’re hurt?”  _ he hollered in his ear, sudden enough to make him flinch.

“I just said I’m okay,” he replied.

“He’s just not doing that well in the walking department,” added Baekhyun with a lazy shrug.

_ “Are you carrying first aid balm with you?” _

“Affirmative.”

_ “Then you can use that for the moment, if you will, then stay guarded until it’s safe enough for you to return to the tunnels. We’ll get you medical help as soon as we’re able.” _

Chanyeol blinked. “Wait, where are the reinforcements you had sent to us.”

There was a short, crisp silence at the other side of the line. “ _ They ran into trouble.” _

“There were more Obelisk convoys?”

_ “More men, in the street. One of our groups got surprised from the back. Another one found a second transportation vehicle, but it was also a decoy.” _

Suddenly, the silence in the street around them felt a bit too suffocating, like the prelude to a storm. “We really have to leave this place.”

“Where to?” asked Baekhyun.

Chanyeol tsk-ed. They should rush to the tunnels, maybe, but he didn’t know if he would be able to walk fast enough for that, or if it would be wise to walk to the entrance in the current circumstances. What if they were being watched? Chanyeol felt like they were being watched. “We could try the building we came from, but--” He looked around until his eyes found the big, looming structure of the abandoned factory to their right. Men had come out from that one to ambush them, but it looked deserted now. And big enough for them to find a corner to hide. “Let’s go there.”

Baekhyun’s fingers tightened a bit on his back. “Okay,” he said after a second. He turned to Jongin then, eyebrows raising. “You coming?”

The boy hesitated.

“You can’t go walking around this whole sector to rescue that girl if you don’t know where she is,” said Chanyeol. It hadn’t been his intention to sound so harsh - or perhaps it had been, only not that much - but he barely felt bad when Jongin flinched.

“I’ll… Rest with you for a while,” he replied after a long second.

“Good.”

Chanyeol could already hear the noise when they were walking past the broken fence towards the factory, turning louder and clearer at their back as they walked to the entrance door. The main one was broken, but the emergency exit gave in as soon as Jongin pushed. At the other side, there was darkness.

“Are we really going in there?” asked Jongin.

Walking into a pitch-black room didn’t exactly seem like Chanyeol’s ideal plan for the night, but if M.O.N.S.T.E.R had taught him something it was that sometimes one had to settle for the inconvenient. He stole one glance back - he could already see the headlights of the cars heading down the road where they had been.

“Come on, it looks like such a homely place,” he said. He could feel the rattle of Baekhyun’s low chuckle, in the place where their skins were joined, side against side as the other boy helped him to walk. They went first, with Jongin at their rear, killing the last source of light as he closed the door shut behind them. Chanyeol’s fingers went to his waist, looking for the flashlight embedded on his belt, but Baekhyun’s hand held his fingers in place against his waist.

“No,” he whispered. “Just in case. I can see, so.”

“Well, I can’t,” replied Jongin, sounding just a bit uncomfortable. “I don’t like not seeing.”

“I was counting on it, but you can follow me, can’t you?” 

They were in some sort of corridor, Chanyeol thought, going forward and forward into the insides of the place. He saw no signs of doors, nor windows, nor cracks of moonlight, so he just concentrated on Baekhyun’s warmth and the cadence of his own steps. Finally, and after what seemed like an eternity, the other boy released him.

He was tired of walking, but it felt strange to be left alone in a world made of swirling dark. Baekhyun had to be close, and Jongin was somewhere behind them, but he couldn’t see them, he couldn’t touch, and suddenly he was by himself with the burn in his throat and the throb of his back and chest. He really hoped that they wouldn’t get attacked.

“Baekhyun?” he called.

The only reply he got was a loud creaking sound and the total darkness in front of them cracking into hues of grey. Baekhyun’s form was seen now, dark grey under the threshold of a double door. He turned his head back at them before advancing, slowly, into the big room he had uncovered, guns in his hands and posture alert. Chanyeol was left last when Jongin followed him, but still he proceeded, the blaster in his hands a comforting weight as he finally left the darkness of the corridor behind.

Whatever that place had been, it had been abandoned a long time ago. Parts of the production machinery still remained - a half-collapsed furnace, unmoving conveyor belts that led to an irregular hole on the floor and a dusty line of hooks, hanging from the walkway close to the ceiling like the talons of a dead bird. It was huge, that place, a square room with concrete walls and a broken skylight above them, and it looked eerie under the dull night light of the Dome - a bit too grey and too dusty and too silent, one of those abandoned places that had been created by man but had been turned into something that didn’t welcome people like Chanyeol anymore.

“Empty.” Baekhyun’s voice echoed in the otherworldly silence when he spoke. He’d been moving fast, checking against the walls and around the conveyor belts and behind the furnace. Chanyeol nodded, pointing at the metallic stairs that led to the raised walkway.

“Let’s go up there.”

“Can you walk?”

The boy nodded. “It hurts a bit, but yeah. I’m fine.”

“Careful, then. You falling down the stairs would be inconvenient.”

Baekhyun was first, and fast, and his steps on the metal platform echoed a bit too loud when he started walking on it. If there was someone there, they would have noticed them already - but as soon as he finished climbing the stairs on his own Chanyeol could check that still no one was coming.

“Now what?” asked Jongin.

“We wait.”

The wall closest to the stairs was lined with windows, so Chanyeol sat just there, with his back against the fence opposite the glass and his hurt leg awkwardly bent. He had forgotten that he had a wound on his back, and couldn’t help the wince that twisted his lips when he felt the bite of cold metal against his skin.

Baekhyun was staring at him when Chanyeol turned around. Jongin wasn’t, eyes on the shapes of the road beyond the glass. They had done well, running into that place as soon as their fight had been over, because the road was now full of Obelisk soldiers in their pretty uniforms, medics taking care of the fallen and regular corps already starting to walk into the surrounding buildings.

_ “Zero?” _ Jongdae called. “ _ How’s the situation?” _

“Stable,” the boy replied, and Baekhyun scoffed.

“You have video support, guys, stop asking what you can see on your screen.”

_ “The signal is not always reliable. It went dark for a while before.” _

“That’s what usually happens when you have to walk in the darkness.”

Chanyeol sighed. “When’s the help coming? We’re sort of… cornered here.”

_ “Give us time.” _

“How bad is the situation, for you not to be sending anyone?”

_ “Ah, but we have. Bonecrusher has gone out to the field with some extra men.” _

Baekhyun crashed down at Chanyeol’s side. “So it’s  _ that _ bad. Did the other teams retire or are they down?”

_ “You could say that… fifty-fifty. The retrieval team is intact and on standby for emergencies, but the others…” _

“So fallen terrorists will be on the news tomorrow, huh?” Baekhyun smiled, even if he didn’t look exactly happy. “Arrested for the greater good and sent to war, or killed, whatever it is more convenient. Which would have been fine, I guess, as long as we hadn’t lost.” The boy sighed and closed his eyes, and Chanyeol felt the weight of realization. They had fought outside, and they had won the battle, but the only thing they had done was losing their time on a decoy.

_ “Hey Sigma, listen…” _

“How much until Bonecrusher and his merry crew of manly dudes arrive, huh?”

_ “Maybe fifteen minutes?” _

Baekhyun huffed again, and opened his eyes to watch the uniformed men of the Obelisk, moving like tiny ants one floor below. He studied them in silence, thin lips pressed in a line. He had the tiniest mole in the corner of his mouth, a tiny stain of brown on his skin. It moved when he spoke, so close to his lips. “Hey Zero.”

He’d caught him staring, and Chanyeol flinched, but Baekhyun didn’t even smirk.

“Ah, yeah?”

“We’re bandaging those wounds. Give me your jacket.”

Chanyeol suddenly felt very self-conscious. “I-- What?”

“You’re aware that we can’t stay in this room for fifteen minutes. You’ll have to get that cleaned when we get home, but for now we have to do something about it.”

“I can walk alright, really.”

Humming, Baekhyun nodded, slipping two fingers between his pants and his boot. “How many times have you said that in the last twenty minutes.” He took a knife off, almost a stiletto, the blade thin and as silver as his eyes. “We’ve got no bandages, so your sweater will do. Now give it to me?”

It was a soft question, Baekhyun’s voice all even. “Are you sure you know how to bandage a wound?” Chanyeol asked back.

“I’ll manage. It’s mostly so you don’t try to hide in the shadows with two skin-colored holes on your suit. They might as well be targets, considering how much they stand out.”

“How many knives are you carrying on you?”

Baekhyun smiled, just the tiniest bit. “Same as always,” he murmured, then he straddled him, hands going to the hem of his sweater. He must have already guessed that Chanyeol was kind of blocked, because his hands automatically went to cut, sinking the tip of his knife on the black fabric and pulling to tear it. “Hold,” he told Chanyeol, offering him the blade like he wasn’t turning his sweater to rags. “A couple of these should be enough.”

“I hadn't taken you for the nursing type,” commented Jongin, because of course he was still there, and of course he was staring at them, expression blank.

“I am not, so you could say Zero boy here is lucky to have me trying. I’ve had to patch myself on the go a couple of times, and we’re just covering a wound here, so I’ll have to do.” Baekhyun retreated until he was kneeling in front of Chanyeol. “Leg,” he demanded.

There was not much the boy could say to protest, or even a coherent reason for him to do so, so he obeyed and bent the knee to give him access. Baekhyun nodded and took a small tube from a pocket in his leg. He uncapped it and spreaded the thick, white substance inside on his index and middle fingers, and then bit his lip as he proceeded to apply it to the raw red burn on Chanyeol’s skin. The ointment was cold against his heated flesh, the thick clay-like texture contrasting with the roughness of Baekhyun’s fingertips as he covered the wound and then proceeded to wrap and fasten part of the rags around his thigh. The boy was soft as he took care of the wound, then quick and firm and precise as he covered them in rags, and only stopped for a second when Chanyeol flinched at the contact. 

“Hurts?” he asked.

“Doesn’t.” It stung a bit, but that Chanyeol could endure.

“I’ll give you a piece of nice advice: don’t get shot in the leg next time, baby boy.” Baekhyun tied the last knot with a thoughtful nod, and then his hands were gone, leaving just the ghost of his contact behind. “And you, Kai, don’t get your own allies shot. Seems like an obvious suggestion but don’t play the reckless vigilante. Especially if you know that my Breaker will be dumb and try to stop you.”

Jongin had been staring at them, eyes slightly wide, but he turned towards the glass once more. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t go sacrificing people for nothing. Work by yourself if you want to play the badass route.” He moved to Chanyeol’s back, fingers grazing the space where the burnt WaveTech fabric met the skin. He’d taken his gloves off just before he had started treating his leg before, and his skin was cool against his. It felt nice, soothing, even though Baekhyun never was. “Messy,” he commented, and he sounded almost upset by the broken suit and the wound beneath. 

Turning around, Chanyeol found himself giving him a grin. Despite it all, he felt a bit lightheaded. “Oh, come on, are you worried about me?”

Baekhyun hit him in the shoulder -  _ hard _ \- before he started applying the ointment. “Nah, Zero boy, battle scars would look hot on you. No reason to be concerned about that.” He tied the bandage around his side a little too tight, tying a very big, voluminous knot, just above his shoulder. “How is it?”

Tentatively, Chanyeol moved his arm. He didn’t know what the rebels put in their first-aid balm, but the throbbing pain on his back and leg had at least numbed down, somehow. It’d had to do, yeah? And Baekhyun was looking at him, so he grinned at him, just to make him stop. “That knot you tied, it’s bigger than my head.”

“It’s a double knot,” protested Baekhyun, very matter of factly. “So it won’t come loose.”

“And as expected you’re bad at everything that doesn’t involve making things explode.”

Baekhyun shrugged, a graceful, full body gesture, crooked smile on his lips. “What can I say, Zero boy, I can’t be good at everything I do. The world is already unfair enough.”

He held out his hand for Chanyeol to grab, and the boy did so, without thinking. His own was gloved, but he still felt the firmness of his touch, and the strength underneath the delicate shape of his fingers. He could walk, he thought. That’d do it. “Hey, Baekhyun,” he told him, poking the boy in the forehead. “You  _ are _ shit at decent knots, but thanks anyway.”

Blinking, Baekhyun stared at him for a whole silent second. “You’re welcome,” he muttered, combing a hand through his bangs. He sort of messed them up, but before Chanyeol could tell him to fix them the boy turned towards the window. “You’re my Breaker, and I told you I’d protect you, didn’t I? Though what I did was a bit more on the after-battle patching side, but I’m still nice like that.”

“Yeah, yeah, nice like that.”

“You’re ready to go?” Baekhyun asked. He turned towards Jongin when Chanyeol nodded, interrupting the blatant effort the boy was making to stare through the window and not at them. “How’s the situation?”

“The Obelisk bastards are still out there. Them registering the buildings around here is not being exactly successful, so I’d say this place’s next. It’s pretty obvious, really.”

“Well, no matter how great I am at applying ointment, we still have one wounded guy. We’re not going to walk out of this place by the door we used to enter.” Baekhyun shrugged.

Chanyeol nodded in approval. “Jongdae?” he called. The boy had been silent, but his voice took shape from the white noise at the other side of the line as his name was called.

_ “Oh, you’re over”,  _ he said.

“Over with that?”

_ “Over with focusing Sigma’s eye camera to a leg. Minseok took the video streaming off.” _

“Because of my leg?” Chanyeol repeated, raising his voice.

“He complained on my earphone,” Baekhyun pointed out, very usefully.

_ “We thought we’d give you privacy.” _

“What are you talking about?” Chanyeol shook his head. Maybe he wanted to bury it in the ground, just a little bit. “Anyway, I thought you guys were here to report. Where’s Bonecrusher’s team?”

_ “Five minutes closer than he was before. Which makes him ten minutes away. Approximately.” _

“And we can’t wait for him here?” Chanyeol didn’t have to check Jongin or Baekhyun’s faces for confirming that. “There has to be at least another exit. Do you guys have an electronic map of this place?”

_ “Not on our database, but let me check if I can find one.” _

“Good. We’ll get moving, meanwhile.”

That time, at least Baekhyun wasn’t opposed to them using the flashlights embedded on the front part of their belts. Even he tried his, as he descended the stage amidst a rattle of steel and approached the big hole in the center of the room, pointing it at the darkness below. Raising his eyebrows, Chanyeol went to join him.

“What’s that? The floor collapsed?”

Kneeling down, Baekhyun hummed. “There’s part of the networks of tunnels here. I wasn’t aware of them being under this factory, too.”

_ “That’s because this section of them was in a terrible condition,”  _ Jongdae chirped in Chanyeol’s ear. “ _ We care for your security, you know, so we wouldn’t open tunnels for traffic if they look like they’d fall on your head.” _

“How kind,” murmured Chanyeol.

“Do you think we could find a way out if we used these?” asked Baekhyun, still trying to dispel the darkness with his flashlight. “I think I see a road down there.”

_ “I don’t know, Sigma, and I wouldn’t try. Didn’t you hear what I just said? About tunnels collapsing on you and crushing you to death?” _

“Yeah, I heard, but I’m considering whether or not to listen. They wouldn’t look for us down there, and honestly the condition down there doesn’t look so bad.”

_ “Forget it,”  _ Minseok came in. “ _ We just got a map you can use. We’re forwarding it to your devices. Follow that, you hear?” _

“Aye, aye, Captain…”

It wasn’t long until the comm aid over Chanyeol’s eye glowed in blue as lines and dots got projected in the corner of his vision. The map was of course simplified to a fault, but a simple look was enough to get him moving. “Is that a back door?” he asked. “There, across this set of rooms.”

_ “Yeah.” _

A muffled, metallic noise resounded around them then. Chanyeol couldn’t tell where it had come from, but he turned around in confusion all the same. “The entrance?” he whispered.

Baekhyun shook his head. The expression on his face was unreadable. “I don’t think so.”

_ “I’m marking the back door on your maps in red,”  _ Jongdae notified them. “ _ We’ll be directing both Bonecrusher’s and the retrieval team there, so join them as soon as you’re able.” _

“What happens to the mission?” Jongin asked. “You can’t just send the retrieval team  _ to us _ when they have another job to do.”

Jongdae’s sigh was low, a murmur of disappointment and white noise. “ _ Having our people safely withdraw from the field has become high priority now. We won’t be sparing teams.” _

“Well, fuck,” whispered Baekhyun. “So it’s definite.”

_ “We knew it could happen.” _

“I still don’t like to get my failures confirmed, thank you.”

He looked around when a new sound seemed to shake the ground, the white line of his lip chain glistening as it caught the light of his own flashlight. His muscles felt tense under his fingers when Chanyeol wrapped them around his shoulder, deceivingly hard below the boy’s general composure. “Baekhyun, we should go. I don’t like that noise.”

“Yeah.”

According to the map at the corner of his eye, they had to cross another huge production room before walking into what looked like some sort of staff zone, so he gripped his blaster with both hands and led the way. He soon felt Baekhyun catching up to him, steps fast and quiet as they both reached the door to the next room and walked in, the flashlights in their belts illuminating their way.

Whoever had built that place must have been incredibly fond of skylights, because almost the whole ceiling was made of squares of glass, joined together like the compound eyes of a fly. It still felt foreign to walk around such a place - too empty, and too abandoned, with shattered windows above their heads and full zones where the floor had sunk to the point of almost collapsing. A real-world M.O.N.S.T.E.R arena with no trace of enemies.

“What do you think they made here?” he asked, even though he knew both Jongin and Baekhyun were probably too upset to indulge him in conversation.

Jongdae did reply, however. “ _ Glass? That’s what the abandoned factories always used to make.” _

Glass for the silver tower. Glass for the surface of the Dome. The kind of glass that was purposely made hard to break. They had stopped having a need for it once the half-sphere that surrounded them was complete, since repairs on it used a different method. Chanyeol took a look at the machines, the broken conveyor belts and oblivion-cold furnaces as the ground shook again under his feet, harder that time. “I guess,” he said. The noise was louder that time when it echoed, an aftershock of the tremor just before. “What’s that?”

“ _ Them _ ,” replied Jongin. “Did they get in through the back side?”

“Maybe.” Chanyeol gripped his gun harder, trying to supress the bad feeling in the pit of his stomach. If the Obelisk people had entered through the back side they would be trapped there until their own team arrived for backup. “Baekhyun?”

Wordlessly, the boy was slowly advancing towards the center of the room, a silhouette made of black smoke and silver steel, one gun swaying as he kept it held only by a single finger looped around the trigger guard, dangling like it was a toy he could allow to fall to the ground.

“We have to move towards the exit fast,” Chanyeol urged as the other man neared the biggest hole on the ground, more than wide enough for one person to fit. “This is open territory. If someone comes from either side and opens fire on us we won’t have a safe place to use as cover for the blasts.”

Baekhyun hunched on the floor, the tip of his fingers resting on the concrete. “That noise,” he said. “It’s coming from down here.” 

_ “From the tunnels?”  _ asked Jongdae. “ _ I told you before, we’re not using those.” _

“Yeah, not us.”

His tone alone already gave Chanyeol a very bad feeling. And it would have been bad enough if Jongin hadn’t suddenly looked very interested. “Do you think it’s them, Sigma?” he inquired, striding towards Baekhyun’s position. “They’re hiding underground, is that what you’re saying?”

“I can see the bottom. I think I can get down there, wait.”

_ “Sigma. You’re not doing such a thing,”  _ Minseok replied from headquarters. “ _ Your team is in a bad position, you’ve been ordered to retreat.” _

“I know,” Baekhyun said. Clenching his teeth, Chanyeol went to stop him before he did the stupid thing he was obviously thinking about.

_ “Walls collapsing on your head, remember?” _ Jongdae insisted.

But of course, it was improbable that the cameras in their comm aids were providing him or Minseok with an adequate image of the way Baekhyun and Jongin were looking at each other.

“Don’t--” Chanyeol started, but Baekhyun had turned to look at him and by the fucking Dream did he know that grin.

“Hey, Zero boy, you can make it to the exit by yourself, right?” he purred. Then he turned around and jumped into the hole.

The nerve.

“For the Dream’s sake, Baekhyu--” Chanyeol saw Jongin, pointing his flashlight at the bottom of the hole. “No,” he warned.

“I’m not going to go back home having failed,” his friend stated, then jumped too.

Double the nerve.

_ “Zero, what’s going on?” _

“We’re fucked. That’s what going on. Can’t you see it on your camera? They jumped.”

_ “The signal’s weak.” _

After getting close enough and squinting down, the white-yellow trails of Baekhyun and Jongin’s lights were visible down there. Shifting his weight from one leg to the other, Chanyeol strapped his blaster to his back.

“If you have some kind of map of the tunnels down there, look for it and send it as soon as you can,” he murmured. “There’s been a change of plans, I guess.”

The last thing a person with a wounded leg should be doing was jumping into a dark pit, but Chanyeol hoped, as he closed his eyes and let himself drop, that Baekhyun’s bandages and ointment were useful enough and that his body decided to cooperate. The fall wasn’t deep, and he even managed to land on his two feet, but the blast of red-white pain that surged from his leg to his head left him weak and dizzy and breathless, and he fell forward on all fours anyway. Someone was pointing a flashlight to his face, and that was certainly  _ great _ , because if there was something he needed besides being in pain and stranded in some hole of the ground with two assholes, that was to be light-blinded by one of them.

“Can you point that thing away from my face?”

It was Baekhyun doing it, and as expected he didn’t listen. “Didn’t I tell you to get to the exit?”

“And didn’t I tell you not to jump down here?” Chanyeol was trying his best to keep his voice low and calm, but oh was it difficult when one had to spit the words through clenched teeth.

“I’m not the one who’s hurt, you know.”

“Yeah, and you’re not the only sensible person in charge of a team of reckless maniacs either.” He got up, removing the hand he had just used to shield his eyes as soon as Baekhyun lowered the flashlight. At least he didn’t look so cheeky anymore. “Did you really believe that I was going to stay up there and… run, or hide, while you were here on your own? What were you thinking?”

“Gut feeling.”

“Fuck you.”

“This is important for me,” Jongin butted in. “For the both of us. I’ll do anything.”

“I see that.”

Baekhyun sighed, one hand looped in his belt. “Zero, can you walk?”

“Of course I can walk. Are any of you leading the way or do I do it?”

“That’s on me. Better eyesight.” Baekhyun gave him a grin that didn’t quite soften his eyes. He walked to the closest wall, a crumbling surface of concrete over stone, and detached his round flashlight from its place in his belt to follow the route of the cracks on it, sunk on the stone like the trace of skeletal fingers. He followed the path of them, white over grey, until his light was met with dull silver. “But before we go, look at this, will you?” he pointed out. “Reinforcements. There’s more up there, you see? On the ceiling. They braced the whole thing. Not so abandoned anymore, it seems.”

Chanyeol’s gut churned. “They could have just done it for maintenance. If I was the Obelisk people I wouldn’t like my factories collapsing because of bad tunnel condition,” he pointed out, but he didn’t really have the strength to contradict Baekhyun when he snorted at him.

“Nah, that’s not it. I know it’s not. So come on.”

Despite himself, Chanyeol knew, deep down, that Baekhyun wasn’t entirely wrong when he said that the tunnels hadn’t been braced to just avoid their collapse. Or, well, maybe they had been, back at the point where they had jumped down the tunnel, but it was soon clear that there was something down there.

_ “Situation. Inform me of your situation,”  _ Jongdae keep repeating, but Chanyeol didn’t exactly know what to say.

“Get the extra teams to these tunnels,” he said. “And just in case, make it fast.”

The rebels have probably been the first ones to use the old sewer system, but it was obvious they weren’t the only ones anymore - not when the old walls soon gave way to clean concrete and the floor turned smooth and curved under the sole of their boots. The tunnel was now tube-shaped, heading forward and down into the ground, further and further away from the domed sky. They walked in silence, eyes set forward, step after step, until Chanyeol was tired and done of breathing in the stale air around them and his muscles hurt for staying too tense and too alert, and didn’t stop until Baekhyun did, silver eyes narrowing.

“What’s it?” Jongin asked. He had made the whole way at Baekhyun’s side, like he also was leading despite the fact that he was probably as blind as Chanyeol in that darkness.

“Door,” Baekhyun replied, pointing his flashlight up.

It was more of a hatch than a door, that thing - a round metal gate covering all the space from ceiling to floor to wall. It looked too heavy to be moved by force and too thick to be shot or broken. Not to mention unsafe.

“What now?” Jongin walked to the gate with his brows frowned. He placed one hand on the metal surface, nails resting on the steel like he could dig them into it. “We can’t just… stop.”

“I won’t allow it,” muttered Baekhyun. He strode towards the corner of the gate and swiped his hand on the surface. Chanyeol realized, when he saw the white light, that he had activated a terminal. “There’s a big, red  _ open latch _ button,” the other boy was saying, but he shut up all of a sudden when Chanyeol went to stand just behind him, hands on his shoulders and eyebrows raised. He had caught the boy just in time, with his finger hovering over the crimson tactile indicator but not yet on it. “What,” Baekhyun said.

“Hasn’t anyone told you that pressing every big, red button you see it’s not exactly a great idea?” replied Chanyeol, leaning forward to check on the screen. He hadn’t spoken loudly, but the words may have come out too close from Baekhyun’s ear, because the boy flinched.

“It’s been working fine for me so far.”

“So if the alarm goes off?”

“I shoot.”

“And if we find ourselves with fifty people coming for us from the other side?”

“I run.”

“My leg’s still wounded, Byun.”

Sighing, Baekhyun leaned against his chest, blinking. He would have looked deceivingly innocent if it wasn’t for the feral grin on his lips. “I shoot while you run? I see you still don’t believe me when I tell you I’ll protect you. You both,” he added on a second thought, gesturing in Jongin’s direction.

“I’m not risking that.”

“Well, I’m not going back.”

“I figured.” Chanyeol clicked the back button on the screen, and went from the main menu to the settings tab. That one was simple, more meant to be informative about the network the gate was connected to than useful to operate it. “Hey Jongdae, can you tell me what’s the use of Obelisk Network DGG452178-X? Can you hack it?”

There was a small pause at the other side of the line.  _ That is…  _ Jongdae hesitated for a second.  _ A security network. DGG ones always are. “If it’s connected to their main database I could technically get into it, but it’ll take time.” _

“How much time?”

_ “I can try to get in as fast as I can, but the security levels…” _

“We don’t have that much time.” Chanyeol barely had time to step away before Jongin came to take his and Baekhyun’s place in front of the screen. It took him a second to recognize the glint of silver in his friend’s hand.

“Jongin, no. We don’t even know how guarded this network is.”

The other man looked him with dark, dark eyes just before he covered them with his own portable IVR visor. “I do not care. We’re Breakers, that’s what we do.”

“This is a pointless risk. We should at least give Jongdae a bit of time to analyze the network and--”

He stretched his arm, trying to take the visor off Jongin’s head, but before he could do a thing, he felt the iron grip of Baekhyun’s fingers around his arm. He was taken by surprise by it, eyes widening as he turned around to stare at his partner in the eye - he always forgot, too, that he was much stronger than what he seemed, more powerful and dangerous and ruthless.

“Can he do it?” he asked, voice terrifyingly calm. Chanyeol just gaped at him. “Leave him, if he really does.”

“Chen, I’m Breaking into the network,” Jongin announced at the same time. “Be prepared to take over.”

_ “Wait a second, I’m still connec--” _

Chanyeol should have stopped him, he really should, but it all had happened in a second and by the time he wanted to remove himself from Baekhyun’s grip, Jongin was already kneeling on the floor, back bent forward and members limp. He cursed.

“Well, now we wait,” muttered Baekhyun. “I hope he’s fast about it.”

It was Chanyeol’s turn now, to grip the boy by the shoulders. “Are you stupid?” he hissed. “But of course, you both are. You don’t give a damn about safety.”

“Oh, come on,” Baekhyun started, because he obviously didn’t get a thing.

“Don’t  _ come on _ me. You do know that Breaking is dangerous.”

“By the Dream, Zero, you do it all the time. It’s exactly the same thing as when we got into that Obelisk building together and--”

“But it’s not.” Chanyeol shook his head. “Jongin here is good, but he’s not me.” Baekhyun was already raising his eyebrows at the comment, but Chanyeol didn’t give him time to talk back. “Breaking is dangerous, Baekhyun, you know that. It’s not like regular M.O.N.S.T.E.R games, where you’ll die and wake up here like nothing happened. Breaking means having your conscience connected to the network you’re hacking into. And at least when I broke into the Obelisk’s database last time I  _ knew _ what kind of network it was, but this… This is some unknown security line in a fucking secret basement.”

Baekhyun gaped at him for a moment. “He’ll be fine,” he started.

“Because the great Sigma says it,” Chanyeol snapped. He sighed right after, because it wasn’t like Baekhyun was great at listening, and because it hadn’t been his fault anyway, and sat on the floor. His leg still stung, a dull, pulsating ache. “Jongdae, have you already connected to the line? If Jongin’s not out in five minutes, I’ll be going in too.”

_ “Can I convince you not to do that…?” _

“Where are our reinforcements?” Chanyeol interrupted him. “Inside the factory already?”

_ “Going in. They found a couple of Obelisk soldiers on the back side.” _

“Well then, tell them to be discreet.”

Chanyeol closed his eyes, leaning on the curved wall. He could hear Baekhyun pacing around the corridor, steps echoing like the rhythmic tap of water -  _ pit, pit, pit, pit. _ Before them, Jongin was as still as a broken automaton, chin resting on his chest and visor faintly gleaming under the beam of his flashlight.

He hadn’t been planning on Breaking that night, but, but it looked like he didn’t have another choice.

“When Bonecrusher comes, tell him to be prepared to take us to a medical specialist if for some reason I have to make either Jongin or myself forcefully disconnect from the server,” he told Baekhyun, getting up and taking his own portable visor from its place in his belt. The boy was too far down the corridor for Chanyeol to distinguish his facial expression, but he still saw him freeze in place.

“So you’re going in?” he said, voice raising a bit at the end.

“Yeah. Someone has to do things well in this group, just saying.” Chanyeol plugged the cable of his visor to one of the ports in the console, right next to the place where Jongin’s was. He took a deep breath. “What? Worried about me now?”

Hidden in shadows, Baekhyun chuckled. “Nah, not really. Didn’t you say you’re the best?”

The visor covered Chanyeol’s eyes, and everything stung in bright silver when the screen at the other side turned on. He knelt on the floor, close to Jongin’s sell of a body and initiated the program. “Well, I can’t say that’s not true,” he murmured before he initiated the program. “Because damn right I am.”

He thought he heard Baekhyun laugh, short and sharp. After that, everything faded to black.

\--

When Chanyeol’s virtual body materialized, the first thing he felt was the pull of gravity - or the lack of it thereof. 

The whole world was floating around him - big chunks of decorated stone, shards of stained glass and pieces of human shaped statues, like he was standing inside of the model of an old era church, an enormous and broken toy that some child had smashed. Now the fragments of it were hanging on air, suspended between the darkness below the cracks on the floor and a purplish, spiraling void where the sky was supposed to be.

“Strange,” he whispered, and his voice sounded strangely muffled, like something was sucking it in.

_ “What is?” _

It was Jongdae’s voice, clear on his headphones, and loud enough to startle Chanyeol. It had been Baekhyun, talking to him last time as he Broke, but of course they didn’t have an audio connection now.

“The arena.”

_ “Can you handle it? Kai is up ahead.” _

“What kind of question is that? Of course I can handle it.”

Tentatively, Chanyeol took one step forward. His body felt light still, like he would float into the void if someone pushed him, but his feet remained glued onto the ground, so soon he was running, blaster already in his hands and black coat floating behind him like the wings of a crow.

That place was effectively shaped like a church, and he could already see the red lights beyond the floating rubble, at the other side of the central nave. There should have been noise too - the high pitched blasts of energy and the steps and the screams - but even as he came closer, Chanyeol heard everything as if he had his head submerged in water and everything was distorted by it, slowed down. It was just an impression, he knew: his body moved as fast as always, and the bright lights of the energy beams flashed, gone in a blink as they always did, but there was a... discordance between what it was and what he perceived, like an off-tune chord in a melody, and that was starting to make him feel dizzy somehow.

So he better take care of what he had come to do there fast, so he could go back to the real world where he belonged. He wanted to be out of that place by the time the reinforcements arrived.

But that arena looked wicked - just as the ruins of a building floating in the void should be - and Chanyeol soon discovered that it was, when the stone floor cracked under his foot and the main nave split in half.

The boy could barely hear his own voice when he screamed, but he used his momentum and jumped forward anyway, as the gap widened under his feet like the jaws of some primal animal, as if to swallow him whole. It was strange, how light his body felt as he broke through the air, how he felt like floating, between the void beyond and the void above. He fell to the floor at the other side of the crack, in the end, some points in his HP bar fading away after the impact, but safe otherwise.

He got up and ran, ducking to avoid the rubble, climbing on a bench that was already starting to levitate, sucked by the spiral on the ceiling, to jump forward and directly into the fray.

“Kai!” he called, an echo strangely reminiscent of those times the other boy and him were winning M.O.N.S.T.E.R trophies with the rest of Team Exodus. He felt the word leave his mouth, taking the air from his lungs along, but he wasn’t able to hear the sound.

Jongdae apparently did. “ _ You found him?”  _ he exclaimed. “ _ Oh hey, Jongin, he made it!” _

The altar of the church was suspended in mid air, and Jongin was crouching on it balance steady and gun pointing at an enormous angel statue. There were three of them, moving, with faces carved in stone and eyes made of cold blue glass.

“Those look slow,” Chanyeol muttered. He saw Jongin turn around briefly to scream something at him, but as he was starting to shake his head - because  _ Jongin, I can’t really hear you  _ \- he caught movement and a flash of red light out of the corner of his eye. 

It was his instinct what kicked in, and that same instinct what saved him. One of the angel statue had turned its head to look at him, an eerie figure of stone so beautifully crafted that the whole sculpture looked human and eyes the pale blue of death… just before the glass they were made of turned iridescent, then hot read. Chanyeol threw himself forward and to the floor, before two twin lasers aimed at the place where he had been just a heartbeat before. They charred the stone floor in deep, deafening silence, and ceased fire as fast as they had started it. Recalibrating.

Jongin had screamed something at him again, as he jumped to avoid his own share.

_ “Are you okay?”  _ Jongdae asked.

“Yeah, yeah, but I can’t hear what Kai here’s saying. The arena is sort of… soundless.”

_ “He called you imprudent. Sort of. But with a much ruder set of words.” _

The same angel that had shot him before was coming for him again, eyes burning like red coals. Chanyeol jumped up and back, almost losing his balance when he did. He wasn’t used to that lack of weight, and that was pretty bad. He’d had to finish that quickly. He started loading a shoot and aimed to the head of the thing. “He is calling  _ me _ imprudent? Oh, that’s a fun one.” He released the trigger, and jumped back again as a fully charged energy beam hit the laser angel in the face. That should splinter the stone and send the thing collapsing. Or at least, it should have had, because it did nothing. “Oh, fuck,” he whispered.

_ “What?” _

“There’s stone angels here, and my gun is not doing very well against them!”

He had to run. He did, trying to find shelter behind some of the benches. He hadn’t expected them to provide him with much shelter, but they didn’t even last a second when the laser hit. He continued, towards one of the columns supporting the ceiling, catching his breath as he frantically tried to rearrange his thoughts.

How to do that.

How.

_ “Jongin is telling you to go for the eyes!” _

That could work. Maybe. If those three things stopped throwing beams through them for a second. Yeah. Chanyeol was going to protest with that argument, exactly, when he looked up as just in time to see one of the red lasers coming  _ through _ the stone the column was made of, centimetres above his head. “Oh, holy shit, by the fucking, wretched Dream.”

_ “Zero! Language!” _

Chanyeol would have been much more receptive at Jongdae’s scolding methods if it wasn’t because the angel’s laser had swept and cut through three columns, and now a chunk of wall and ceiling had come off from the arena and was moving slowly towards the void up above.

If any of those lasers hit him, his character would be oneshot. What kind of security was that?

“Well, if you’ll excuse me kindly tell Kai that there’s no way I can hit those guys in the eyes without them frying me and eating me for breakfast!”

Jongin was trying to follow his own advice, moving across the nave, fast as a shadow, trying to close the distance between himself and the angels to get a shot - the problem was that the arena was crumbling and that he was very far from hitting bull’s eye.

They wouldn’t achieve a thing by doing only that.

He jumped away from one of the beams again, back hitting one of the crumbling walls.

They wouldn’t win just by defending themselves and trying to go for an impossible-to-hit weak point. They needed something else. They needed--

Chanyeol looked up, trying to think - and then he saw it.  _ Him.  _ A man dressed in Destiny red, gas mask over his face, staring at him from the place where he sat, practically upside down on one of the floating pieces of rubble. He rose his hand when he realized Chanyeol had noticed him, and waved at him like he was hanging from a patch of wall like some crimson human stalagmite.

“Clarity?” Chanyeol whispered. “What in the name of the Dream…”

His lack of attention almost costed him his life, and the next laser that came for him completely blew up the section of the wall behind him. He looked up again, and he would have sworn the bastard was laughing under his mask… that, and gesturing towards himself.

Chanyeol frowned. Clarity pointed at the fragments of stone that were already suspended in mid-air, slowly rising. There were a lot of those, floating around the arena. Big, heavy chunks of stone.

Chanyeol still felt so ridiculously light, like a strong gust of wind could send him flying away from that place. And maybe it was that. What he could do, had to do.

He rushed toward the closest wall and didn’t give himself time to think about the potentially suicidal act he was about to commit - he just used it to take impulse and jumped, forward and up.

He was light, light as a feather so he rose, right until he collided against the closest square of rubble.

Some sort of weird gravity pulled him in, fainter than the one on the ground, but still there, gluing him to that section of floating wall the same way Clarity had been stuck to his, head upside down but body firmly planted on the surface below him. It was weird, and the sensation was, well, also very strange, but he also felt like grinning. There was always a way, huh?

He felt the two laser beams coming for him way before he saw them, but he was already jumping up to the next piece of rubble, a small one in the way to a big square of floating wall. “Jongin!” he called, and the other boy couldn’t hear but still was able to see him as he landed. His coat flapped behind him as he moved, sticking out in the direction of the floor of the room, like his clothes and his hair knew that he should be falling instead standing on a wall that rose at almost a perpendicular angle from where he should have been, but Chanyeol could feel the solidity of his own floor below his feet, like the whole world had turned on his axis. The stone angels couldn’t hit him there - they had been fast back on the nave of the church, but they were statues after all - not really prepared for having to look up.

So he jumped from piece of stone to piece of stone, until he was right above one of them. He waited in place for one second after an irregular patch of rubble passed floating about five meters below him, and just lined with the angel’s head, and then he leaped towards it, letting himself drop.

Suddenly he could feel the pull of gravity - the real one, as it was supposed to be - bringing him down with it, as he was trapped in a free fall, silent wind in his ears. He tried to reposition himself but he still fell on the rock on his stomach, the electric shocks that M.O.N.S.T.E.R had instead of pain leaving him gaping for an air he didn’t need, and his HP bar dropping to slightly over half.

He tried to stand up. He couldn’t, but he was moving, the force of the impact bringing the rock down towards the floor, fast.

It was Jongin who sprang and tackled him to get him away from the rock half a second before it collided against the stone angel’s head.

Chanyeol’s body rolled on the floor until it stopped, still like a ragdoll’s, but even if he couldn’t hear the crash, he still sensed the whole ground crumble and shake when the angel fell to the ground.

_ “What are you doing?”  _ Jongdae asked in his ear, alarmed. “ _ I don’t know if you know, but you’re making your partner very upset.” _

“Jongin? Really?” When Chanyeol got up, the first thing he saw were the remains of his collapsed angel… that coincidentally had collapsed against the second of them. The first one was broken, the other… Well, its head seemed to still be operative, but it had been severed from its neck and now he couldn’t move it, and the red laser beams coming from its eyes were pointlessly aimed at an empty corner in the place. Meanwhile, Jongin was moving, graceful and fast, up the same floating path Chanyeol had taken before.

And wow, he had to admit that the shifting gravity thing looked cool as hell when it was another person jumping from platform to platform.

_ “Yeah.” _

“Well, for someone so annoyed about the way I acted, he’s pretty good at recreating the things I just did.” The remaining angel seemed to be focused on Jongin, so he approached the broken head from behind and climbed on top, reaching for his gun and aiming, the second the laser stopped. His friend had been right in his own way - those things could be stopped if one just shot them in the eyes. “Second enemy’s out, by the way. One remaining and we’ll have access to the network, I guess.”

_ “You guess?” _

Jongin had almost made the whole path up to the top of the rubble by himself and leaped down, like Chanyeol had done before but more gracefully, position perfect as he jumped and fell and landed - a perfect hit. Even back when Team Exodus had been active, Jongin had been the elegant one, in every move, every shot, every game. Chanyeol wasn’t especially elegant, but he was practical.

He looked up. “Yeah.” He still could see the crimson spot of Clarity’s clothes from down there. The man had not moved, and he wouldn’t, so it was Chanyeol who went to him, from piece to piece of shattered floors and walls as the last angel cracked and crumbled behind him.

Clarity only looked at him when Chanyeol landed in the platform he was sitting in, once the gravity had shifted for him and upside down didn’t feel like upside down anymore. He snapped his fingers after, the sound loud like a gunshot. “Oh, hello,” he greeted him.

“I can hear you,” realized Chanyeol. The man laughed, his chuckle muffled by the gas mask over his face.

“Oh, you do,” he said. “You’re a good Breaker, Zero. What you want, you take. You use the world around you to create a path for yourself, even if there should be none. Good work with the statues there. Your little friend hadn’t realized.”

In M.O.N.S.T.E.R, in the real game, there was always a way. That was why Breaking worked, why it was a thing in the first place. “I thought about what to do when I saw you.”

“Ah, but why I am here, if not to provide little pushes sometimes?” Clarity stated, leaning back to lay on the floor, the tufts of his brown hair half hiding his face, like he had been frozen when he was right to fall to the ground. “The access you seek for completing your mission is here, by the way, in this very platform. Just touch the ground and claim the data as your reward.”

Chanyeol frowned, but he did as told. Clarity  _ was _ right after all: he hadn’t seen it in his map before but the checkpoint was right there. “Are you helping us?”

“The good old dichotomy, eh? Are you with me or against me?” Clarity shook his head. He sounded all amused. “I’m none. I’m neither. I’m just watching.”

“Watching what?”

“Watching you.” The data was already loading, fast, but Chanyeol didn’t get any confirmation message from Jongdae. “I came when I saw your friend there logging in. At first I thought it’d be Sigma. I really wanted to see him, but we don’t always get the things we hope for, right?”

“What are you talking about? Sigma?”

“Yes. But I like you too. Right now, I like you the most. Who would have said.”

“What--” The percentage of loaded data was going up, up, up, from 50% to 70% to 85%, so fast, much faster than normal, but Chanyeol already wanted to leave and Jongdae was still silent at the other side of the line. “What have you done to my communication systems?”

Clarity didn’t reply. “You do deserve it, you know?” he stated instead. “To get to Miss Bae Joohyun, because that’s what you were looking for, right? You found the way underground, and now you’ll be able to open the doors. What you’ll find beyond is a fair reward in my opinion. She’s a beautiful creature, that one, powerful and frail like all Dreamers are.”

95%. 96%. 97%. Chanyeol gaped at the dull gas mask that was Clarity’s face. “She’s  _ here _ ?” he whispered, incredulous. “But wait-- Why? What’s going on here?”

The other man waved a hand in front of him. “Oh, come on. I might find little pushes enjoyable, but I’m not here to do your homework after all.” A blinking 100% started glinting in the corner of Chanyeol’s eye. It was done and he stood up.

“No. Seriously. Wait.”

Sitting up, Clarity observed him for a second, head tilted and cheek on hand. “Off you go,” he said. “Be brave. Be rebellious.”

He gestured again, as if waving him goodbye, and Chanyeol parted his lips to reply, but his world fell into sudden black.

\--

He was falling, falling, falling.

His head was spinning.

He wanted to throw up.

He woke up, to a world too noisy and too bright, with Baekhyun’s cold fingers on his forehead.

“Breathe,” he told him. “That’s it, you’re out of the game. Now breathe, come on. Steady.”

He didn’t feel like steadying himself, not with half a dozen of flashlights pointed at his face. “What the fuck--”

“Yeah, that’s what I was wondering too. I got kicked out of the game as soon as the last enemy died, but you were still connected. Unreachable, but sending data to us.” Jongin was sitting at his side, back on the door and face a little blue, but still frowning. “What happened?”

Chanyeol swallowed and shook his head. He vaguely wondered if he would throw up. His limbs felt so heavy, his leg and back throbbed, and his head was spinning too fast for him to catch up. He had been kicked out of the game and his body wasn’t doing exactly well.  _ He had really been kicked out of the-- _ “Step back, give him room to breathe,” Baekhyun said, and Chanyeol still didn’t know who all those people were, but Baekhyun was moving away with them, and he needed to tell him that--

He grabbed him by the wrist. “Clarity,” me murmured. “Clarity was there.”

“What? The guy you saw ingame last time?”

With no flashlights pointed at him anymore, Chanyeol could think a little better. Back inside the arena, Clarity had greeted him and then snapped his fingers, loud and clear even if sound had been gone in the whole place until that very second. “He… He was the one who pushed us out from the server, first Jongin then me. He also… He sort of helped me out - he helped me think about how to Break the server, and he told me where the data was, and he… He was calling it giving me a little push. Said he was watching me.”

“Wait, stop, stop, stop there for a second. Who is that guy supposed to be?” Baekhyun bit the ring on his lip. “I don’t like the concept of this random person appearing in places he shouldn’t be in, no matter if he’s claiming to help. He still may be Obelisk, for all that we know.”

“He mentioned you too.”

“Ah. He’s probably Obelisk, then. They love talking to me at every occasion they get.”

“He also talked about the girl we’re looking for.”

At that, Baekhyun frowned, eyes searching Jongin’s and going back to the flashlight people behind him before he locked them on Chanyeol’s face again. He had one hand on his shoulder, steading him, but Chanyeol felt his fingers clench. “What did he say?”

“That she’s here. Beyond this door somewhere.” Baekhyun’s whole body went tense even before Chanyeol had finished speaking. He stared at the gate, released the boy and got up slowly.

“I see,” he whispered.

“It could still be a trap,” Chanyeol he tried to reason. By the Dream, he could swear he was about to retch.

“Well, this night has had a couple of those already and we’re still in one piece.” With his hands on his hips, Baekhyun stared at him for a long moment, then turned around towards the people with the flashlights. “Hey, Bonecrusher,” he called, and only then Chanyeol realized that of course, the ones there with them were the reinforcements they had called for. He blinked, trying to focus. He couldn’t allow himself not to focus. “Have someone take Zero back to the base.”

Chanyeol leaned on the wall to stand up. His vision was almost completely clear, his head almost didn’t hurt, but the throbbing pain in his leg almost threw him off balance for a second when he tried to move. He shouldn’t have allowed himself to sit. That, and his brain was refusing to process what Baekhyun was saying. “Back to the base?”

“To the Doc’s laboratory, more exactly. He got shot in the leg,” he explained to Bonecrusher, very matter of factly. “He’s been able to walk until now, but you know, I’m not risking it.”

“We’ve got a vehicle,” said Bonecrusher after a while. “And I need to send a couple of my people to trace the route back to retrieval team, and to then inform the bosses at HQ.”

“Good, then. Take Zero with you.”

Chanyeol gaped at him.  _ “What?” _

“You heard me, right?” Baekhyun shrugged, a tiny, lopsided smile on his lips that felt as tense as the rest of him. “There may be danger ahead, you know, and I have people here to take care of the job with me. I’m just being nice about this, Zero boy, since I’m sure you’ll be too stubborn about it. No one will think poorly of you if you go back, so I’m just... arranging it in your stead.”

Chanyeol felt his stomach drop. That wasn’t it, Baekhyun couldn’t be speaking seriously about sending him back. “I’m staying. I am supposed to be team leader.”

“Unofficially only, and because the guys in headquarters don’t trust me.” Sighing, Baekhyun turned to the console. “Come on, don’t look at me like that, I’ll take over from here. You did your job, unlocking these doors. Now let  _ me _ work. Belated teamwork, yes?”

“You can’t be serious.”

He had to shut up when a big, heavy hand fell on his shoulder. “We need to evacuate all injured personnel,” Bonecrusher said. No matter if him being hurt was something that Bonecrusher would have never realized if Baekhyun hadn’t said it out loud. “It’s policy.”

“That belated teamwork thing is bullshit. I want to be here until the end.”

“Don’t get upset about this, baby boy, but among all of us you’re the one with least real combat experience. So be nice and don’t protest,” stated Baekhyun, tapping his way through the menu of the console. “It’s part of the duties of a good soldier to know when to step back. You do know this, right?”

“And you’re talking about how to be a good soldier?  _ You? _ ” It had been a while since Chanyeol had wanted to punch Baekhyun, but the need right now was fucking overwhelming. There it was, that red blur in his head again, whispering to him to  _ show him, show him, make him lose that smirk _ . But Baekhyun was already opening the gate, and a man and a woman of Bonecrusher’s team were flanking him. It was true that they didn’t have the time to argue. Even if he was upset and Baekhyun was a jerk. “I hope you know what you’re doing.”

“Of course. I've got it covered no prob. I’ll go say hi later, okay? So try not to get shot again when I’m not around.”

That was the last thing he said before he crossed the door, followed by the whole of Bonecrusher’s team. Even the guy in question spared a longer glance at Chanyeol, patting him in his uninjured shoulder before he unsheathed his gun and proceeded. And suddenly the tunnel felt so empty and so lonely, and Chanyeol cursed but started limping towards the exit, with one escort on each flank and bitterness in the back of his mouth.

\--

“You’ve made Chanyeol angry,” Jongin told him.

“It’s fine, he’ll forgive me.”

To tell the truth, Chanyeol had stared at him like he had come right up to where he was and punched him in the wound he had on his back, but he had done that for a cause and he’d deal with the consequences later. He knew that Obelisk people loved to play dirty, and he had known that they were going to try to trap him and his group that night since even before the mission had started - because if they also were something, it was obvious - but he’d had the feeling, in that hidden corner of his mind where he kept the few things he allowed himself to hope, that they were onto something. That he would be able to get something useful out of it all if they went out and try.

And well, look at that. It seemed like he had hit jackpot. Destiny was on his side after all, as always. Reminding him every time of his own drive.

The Obelisk were building their own train system underground, far away from the metro rails and below the busy streets of the Dome. And the thing was still under construction, but it was obvious that they had spent their money and resources there, because everything was clean, new, wide, so oppositely different from the old factory where their entrance has been that it felt like they had stepped into different worlds.

Baekhyun recognized the practical use of trains, but he didn’t like them - not when the memories they brought weren’t exactly pleasant. Yixing had said once that they’d run away in one, that one single time he’d been horribly wrong. Baekhyun had been scared, then. He hadn’t been strong enough. But he was different now - the kind of person who took what he wanted, the kind who had no need for fear.

“Oh, look at this place, they seem to have been working hard in building it, huh?” he muttered. “So what if we blow it up when we finish looking? You know, so we give them something to do, since they seem so bored all of the time…”

He was sure that Chanyeol would have glared and called him on his bullshit, but sadly, he had sent him home and changed him for Bonecrusher, so everything he got in return was a short, dull grunt. “We don’t have time for that.”

“How boring.” He sighed when he didn’t get a reply. “You have better conversation in general when you’re back working at that disco of yours.”

“You’re not authorized to talk about anything unrelated to the mission, especially not in places where you can be recorded,” Bonecrusher said. Baekhyun would have rolled his eyes to the back of his head if he wasn’t so busy trying to take in the space beyond the corridor, drink it all in.

_ “Don’t worry about being recorded. I think we have managed to loop the whole security feed”,  _ Jongdae said in their common audio channel.  _ I don’t know for how long it’ll last but… _

Grunting in approval, Bonecrusher nodded. “Nice.”

“This is what happens when the Breakers in your team are good.”

At his end of the line, Jongdae snorted. “ _ Hey, give me some credit too! But by the way, the video signal from the camera in your eye is still not reaching us, so you’ll have to inform us through voice.” _

“Yeah, yeah. Well, the part we’ve come in through looks like an emergency exit, which makes sense. We’re at an underground train station.”

_ “A station? Where to?” _

“How do you want me to know?”

The corridor they’d taken finished in a barred gate, right next to one set of tracks that led all the way to a raised platform on their right and got lost in pitch-black darkness on the left. Baekhyun had been the first one to reach it and was the first one to open it, pushing it slowly to get out. He had to suppress a sigh when he felt Bonecrusher’s heavy hand on his shoulder.

“I haven’t given the order. You’re under me now, Sigma.”

Baekhyun had worked in teams before. He had done a couple of things with Bonecrusher’s unit, in fact, and their collaboration had ended up with the guy angrily grunting at him the last time they’d seen each other at Black Light, basically because Baekhyun may or may not had forgotten that he was supposed to report for some reconnaissance mission that he had skipped entirely. Sometimes, the reason why he preferred to go solo left his mind, but the universe never took too long to remind him by using idiots like Bonecrusher. What was the guy waiting for? For his whole team to be in position inside of the corridor so they could orderly walk out?

That sounded like a great plan, yeah. And he wondered why all the people he was sent to team up with ended up being idiots (except for Chanyeol, maybe).

“So I’m your subordinate now?” he muttered.

He was the nicest person ever after all, so he leaned against the wall and waited until Bonecrusher deemed it convenient to send someone to explore the place. At least, it didn’t took long, and both Baekhyun and Jongin were chosen, along with Bonecrusher himself and a lean, black haired girl. The ground shook slightly under their feet as they walked out the tunnel and up one of the platforms, a rumbling tremor like the growl of an animal coming from somewhere beneath the earth.

“What is that?” he whispered.

Bonecrusher just hushed him.

The platforms seemed to be still in disuse, construction materials still piled up around, the railway at the other side still unfinished under the white light coming from the ceiling. Baekhyun stopped walking for a moment, and Jongin passed by him, and Bonecrusher, and the girl, carefully covering the terrain, checking the platforms and covering the distance towards the door. He didn’t really like that place, not at all, but he couldn’t allow something like that to stop him, now could he?

“Sigma!” he heard Bonecrusher call. The whole team already was at the end of the platform, backs against the wall in which the single gate leading out of the room opened, and Baekhyun should feel relieved, really, to leave the train station, but still he sighed and turned around to give one last look to the place.

It was then when he saw the light - two dim pale spots, like the eyes of a monster, shining in whitish yellow from the back of the tunnel with the unfinished railway, and getting bigger, closer.

“Someone’s coming,” he muttered, high enough for Bonecrusher to hear him. “A vehicle, I think.”

“Patrols,” the other man grunted. He looked much more upset than usual, as he curtly gestured to him so he would come where the others were. And it was the logical thing, he guessed, for Baekhyun to leave the platform, to go where the rest of his team were, because the wall would hid it there, as the vehicle passed.

“All that fighting has calmed down up there, uh?” he commented. The light circles were illuminating the whole tunnel now, a looming hunter nearing its prey.

“Sigma, that’s an order!”

That was cute. And Baekhyun didn’t know who that Clarity person was, but no matter how pale and feverish he looked, Chanyeol had talked like he believed him. Belated teamwork, he’d called it. It was his time to prove if Destiny really loved him that much. “Uh, uh,” he singsonged. He felt the weight of his guns, both of them, in his hands.

_ Sigma, what’s going on?  _ Jongdae asked.

From his place against the wall, Jongin was staring at him, eyes very black. “Yeah, what’s going on?”

“I have a gut feeling,” he said, shrugging. He already knew that something like that would make Bonecrusher angry out of his mind, and couldn’t help his lips curving up when he saw the vein popping in his neck. Ah, trying so hard to remain calm, was he?

He was already at the side of the platform when Jongin came to join him. “Is it the girl?” he asked him. He sounded desperate, and felt like a gun without a safe. Baekhyun liked to keep his weapons in check, but sometimes the right choice was to put the trigger and let go.

“Maybe,” he said. When had he really care about things going wrong when there was a chance for him to win. He looked at Bonecrusher, who was coming for him. Oh, bad leader, going out of his hiding place. “Call the retrieval team,” he told him, beaming.

He moved towards the wall a bit, preparing himself. He could see the shape of the vehicle, sooner than anyone else, and he knew whoever was driving it could see him too because they slowed down. It was a van, black and simple, like the one that had attacked them before.

_ “You,” _ a deep voice snarled at his side, and Baekhyun took one step to his left just in time to avoid Bonecrusher grabbing him.

“Aw, come on, trust me a bit, will you?” The boy grinned at his alleged boss and then jumped to the railway.

Oh, Chanyeol would have been so angry, even though he would have jumped after him, but all that Baekhyun got was a very clueless Jongin pointing his blaster at the van, like he expected to do something useful by shooting it.

Sighing, the boy raised his own arms and started walking towards the slowing vehicle. And Chanyeol  _ would _ be mad when he bragged to him about that later - because  _ what if they run over you, Baekhyun? _ \- he would be all upset even if Baekhyun was trusting his gut feelings, and his gut feelings tended to be right.

They wouldn’t risk it if they didn’t know who he was. They wouldn’t risk it if only their people was supposed to be there. They wouldn’t risk it if they didn’t know how many of them they were, or if whatever they were transporting was too precious to break.

It was either that or he was stopping a guy carrying a vehicle full of cleaning products. Plausible, if the Obelisk sent their maintenance people in black vans at four in the morning.

He tilted his head. “Hands up,” he said, voice reverberating in the empty space of the tunnel. “And step outside of the car.” He could see the driver inside of the vehicle, a grey silhouette over the dark when the headlights of the car went off. Both him and the woman sitting beside him had weapons, and Baekhyun scoffed when they opened the doors with them in hand. “Drop the guns,” he added, shifting his tone so his voice would sound just the tiniest bit amused. “I can see you, you know.”

He sometimes wondered what Yixing would think, if he had the chance to see what the weak boy who had, once upon a time, failed to protect him, had become. Would he be proud? Sad, maybe? Yixing had never liked fights. They both had been young and naive.

The woman screamed when he shot at her wrist. He was precise, always, and she had been about to shoot. “I told you,” repeated Baekhyun. “Release your weapons. I’ll aim for your head next, you see? One would think that you wanted to keep it.”

“You--” the man started. He aimed at him, and Baekhyun grinned at him.

“You might call me Sigma. With a nice ‘s,’ you know. For hissing purposes.”

He could feel Jongin at his side, and hear Bonecrusher and his men, relocating on the platform. The van driver could shoot at him, he guessed, but that was the last thing he’d do, and Baekhyun wondered if he would still do it with a deep, morbid curiosity.

_ So hey, Yixing. _

He was tired of all that. He wasn’t getting an order so he might as well incapacitate the guy himself. Probably, it was what everyone else was expecting Sigma to do.

“I’m bored, and I don’t exactly have time to wait for your reinforcements,” he stated. “So last words, any of you, before I incapacitate you?”

That was going to be very fun, if in the end they were just carrying bleach and brooms.

“Wait, stop it,” another voice said, all calm.

Baekhyun had to fight the impulse that made his shoulders square, and the grimace creeping up his face. He knew that voice, he would have been able to recognize it anywhere, even in that concrete tunnel, lost in the middle of nowhere. If there was someone he hated more than Commander Wu, with his resting bitch face and his pristine military uniform, was that other man: pale, and delicate to the point of frailness, a shocking contrast of blacks and whites, of kind smiles and hard eyes - a liar.

“Ah, I don’t know how you manage to do it, Sigma, but you’re always in the wrong place at the wrong time, hasn’t anyone told you?”

Baekhyun was sure that Doctor Lu had caught him blinking in shock as he finally stepped out of the back of the van. He looked all innocent, almost amused, hands in the pockets of the black Obelisk uniform he wore under his lab coat.

“Don’t move!” Jongin called out. “You’re outnumbered!”

“You mean that this timing is very wrong for  _ you _ ,” said Baekhyun, when Doctor Lu didn’t even look at the other man. “What are you doing here, Doctor? In the middle of the night and all by yourself?”

Chuckling, Doctor Lu shook his head. “Oh, come on, Sigma, don’t you already know? I thought you had come here to see me.”

There were few things that made Baekhyun upset, and few things he feared. The condescending tone in Doctor Lu’s voice had always been somewhere between both categories. He represented powerlessness. He represented failure. Commander Wu he could always deal with, but that other man was like a pretty angel in a window made of stained glass - his silhouette too opaque to look across it and too high for him to reach.

How disgusting. “Not you,” he replied. “But what are you carrying in this van, uh?”

“Something that I can’t give to you,” Doctor Lu stated. “She’s too precious an asset to be thrown away.”

Baekhyun’s breath froze in his lungs.  _ She _ . So there it was, Destiny, bringing him to his enemies and still giving him what he wanted. “Step back from that van,” he ordered.

His eyes followed the shape of Doctor Lu’s body, the technology in them making out his shape in the dimness behind the headlights. He wasn’t carrying weapons, he believed, he could not see the shape of them anywhere on his clothes.

“I’m sure we can make a deal. My men won’t shoot.”

“You only have two of them, one of them unarmed.”

“I know, Sigma. We’re not match for you, uh?”

He still sounded so smug, like an adult lecturing a child, like he had sounded back then, when Baekhyun had been pinned against a wall and Yixing had told the Obelisk men to take him if that could spare his boyfriend from being hurt.  _ Don’t Pretend you know a thing about Fate, boy,  _ Doctor Lu had said, with that same face, that same tone of voice.  _ Do you think we would have let you live if you posed any danger? _

Baekhyun wasn’t a murderer, but he would have killed that guy.

Instead, he strode forward, fast, and he grabbed the man by the arm, twisting it painfully behind his back. It had to hurt, but the only sign of discomfort Doctor Lu’s showed was an almost inaudible hitch in his breath. He smelled like baby powder, soft and clean, and the boy twisted his wrist harder.

“Doctor!” his male bodyguard called. He tried to aim at Baekhyun, but the boy turned around, using Lu’s body as a shield. He saw the smile creeping out on the side of his face.

“We are outnumbered, my dear boy, we’ll have to negotiate.”

Baekhyun scoffed and pushed Doctor Lu towards the back of the van, grabbing a bit to hard, even if the man didn’t resist. Part of him had expected to find it empty, another, darker side of him had almost been ready for a group of guards curled inside, waiting for the moment to jump at him.

Instead, he found a cocoon of cables and lights, and, cradled amidst them, a huge cylinder of steel and glass - a single tank, full to the brim with something that looked like water, the interior illuminated in red right.

And inside, a single girl, sleeping like the remnant of one of those princesses of old era fairytales, hands crossed over her chest, hair floating like a halo of night around her hair and lips parted not for the kiss that would awaken her, but for the breathing tube in her mouth. 

She was pretty, like the kind of broken toy that still keeps its porcelain face intact. She was thin too, her fingers almost skeletal, and her veins dark like cracks on translucent skin. She was Dreaming, Baekhyun thought, trapped in a cage of metal and glass, and the boy closed his eyes and saw Yixing for a moment, floating in the water like that girl was, trapped and unconscious, fading off like a flickering light until there was nothing left of him. 

Had it been like that for him too? Had he suffered? Had he thought about him? Had he Dreamed about Baekhyun before the end?

He didn’t have time for that, to even consider it. Not then, not then. Not even if the blood in his veins had solidified into ice, of the kind that was so cold that burned the skin.

Doctor Lu was very still, his back against his chest. He knew, he knew. “She’s alive,” Baekhyun pointed out.

“Yes. That, she is.”

Was that girl in pain? Was she? Baekhyun didn’t really care about  _ her _ that much, but in the end he cared a great deal. “I should kill you,” he whispered in Doctor Lu’s ear, so, so softy, grinning. Yixing hadn’t liked violence, but sometimes the pull for it was so strong. “I should shoot you in the face and take her.”

“You can try.” Doctor Lu remained relaxed against him, no trace of fear, or scorn, just that enervating calm. “But my constants are monitored by the Government, Sigma. If I fall, they’ll know and they’ll track my position. You won’t get out, no matter what you have done with security. You’ll be found, and killed. Do you want that, Sigma?”

At least Chanyeol was out of that place. He wouldn’t have to worry. At least. “Maybe, but if I shoot you, you’ll be dead.”

Baekhyun knew that Bonecrusher’s men were moving. He could hear the guy calling for the retrieval team, see Doctor Lu’s bodyguards being disarmed. He didn’t move when Jongin jumped into the van, kneeling on the tank and knocking on the glass like a mad kid, like the woman inside could hear him, or when Bonecrusher placed his big, rough hand on his shoulder again.

“You’re not shooting anyone. That’s an order.”

Baekhyun blinked up at him. “I am the one with the gun pointed at his head,  _ Leader _ ,” he said, trying to sound the sweetest he could. He was getting filed for that, that was certain.

“So you’re in charge,” Doctor Lu continued, talking to Bonecrusher that time. “I have a proposal.”

“Speak.”

“I’ll have to admit I wasn’t expecting to find you here. You surprised me, that’s for certain, and I can’t defend myself. I haven’t called reinforcements yet, and they won’t come immediately as long as I’m kept alive… which I intend to remain, with your help.”

“We should take the bastard with us,” proposed Baekhyun, twisting his arm just a bit more, just to see if his delicate bones didn’t break. “He’s really well informed, isn’t he? I’m good at making people sing.”

“Do that if you want yourself tracked and destroyed.” Doctor Lu looked back to smile at him, all condescending again, too calm. “No, I’ll offer you a better option. I value my life and I value my freedom, so I’ll give you the girl to keep them as they are. No fights.”

“We already have the girl,” Baekhyun pointed out, but Bonecrusher hushed him. 

“Release him,” he told him.

Baekhyun snorted. “No.”

“I agree with Sigma,” Jongin joined in. “He’s in the Dream Department. He’s to blame for this. We can’t just let him go?”

Clicking his tongue, Doctor Lu shook his head. “You have me, yes, but you know keeping me would bring you problems. And you have your girl too, oh, you do, but she’s there, being kept in a Dreaming tank. Do you perhaps know how to open it?”

“Glass can be broken,” replied Baekhyun.

“She can be broken too. Irrevocably, if you don’t handle the tank carefully.” The heat radiating from Doctor Lu’s body felt suffocating, and Baekhyun had been so cold when he had run from him and his people. Cold as Yixing and him hid. Cold as they had been found. Always cold. He stared at the sleeping figure of Bae Joohyun inside the tank, grip tightening. He wondered for a fleeting moment, if Chanyeol would have thought about something else to do. “I’ll open the tank for you. I’ll let you take her. I’ll let you run. Don’t interfere with my duties and I’ll keep quiet.”

“He’s lying,” Jongin protested.

Back then, Doctor Lu had let Baekhyun go because he didn’t pose any threat. Now, he was there, trapped, with Baekhyun’s gun on his temple. How much the wheel of Destiny had spinned. What if he fired? That man was one of them, and no matter what he said, no matter if they didn’t manage to open the tank, he could still get him.  _ Hey, Yixing, what would you think of me? _ He sighed. “Of course he’s lying,” he groaned, and then released him.

\--

The sun was already a dull, pale ball peeking out at the other side of the glass Dome walls when Baekhyun sneaked into Chanyeol’s room, still in his battle suit. 

He had been scolded, of course, first by Bonecrusher, then by Minseok, who had sat him down like a child and told him one and again why he was supposed to obey orders while Jongdae nodded very approvingly.

“But didn’t all go well?” Baekhyun said, chuckling and shrugging, because making Minseok mad at his lack of discipline was too easy and he needed something to slip back in control. “We got the girl, we delivered her to the Doc, the mission was a success. You didn’t let me shoot that little bastard in the face but then I guess that there’s things we have to sacrifice sometimes, huh?”

“I thought you were getting better at teamwork.”

He sounded honest. Unbelievable. “What can I say? We all make judgement mistakes sometimes.”

“Bonecrusher is filling a complaint. Again.”

“Then you go and file it. Again. If it was for Bonecrusher, we would have missed the girl and Doctor Bastard. You should be thanking me, Leader.”

Baekhyun already knew he was the most forsaken lost cause ever, so he allowed himself the satisfaction of performing a very,  _ very _ theatrical bow before leaving the room. He needed to sleep, he had told Minseok and Jongdae, and he had chortled under both of their glares as he left.

He hadn’t been lying when he had said he needed to rest. He didn’t feel tired - he was used to keeping himself awake - but he could sense the exhaustion in his muscles and bones, making him numb and vulnerable now that the push of adrenaline had worn off. He’d really had the intention of surrendering himself to his own bed and trying to sleep, at least for a couple of hours, but the sound of his own breath when he found himself alone made him a little sick.

It was the tank, and the girl sleeping inside, her face lit in red light.

It was how thin she’d been when they had taken her out, how fragile she’d been in Jongin’s arms.

It was the look in the other boy’s eyes, and the flash of pity in Bonecrusher’s.

It was the calm softness in Doctor Lu’s face as they had left.

He’d hated being there with those people. No matter what he’d told Minseok, he’d hated the sacrifice.

So he’d sighed and he’d turned around and ten seconds later he was silently closing the door of Chanyeol’s room behind him, wondering if the other boy would be awake.

The curtains were closed but he could still see him, drawn in yellow daylight over the blacks and greys of the room, face sunk on the pillow, blankets curling around him, a white bandage peeking up from below the wifebeater he usually wore to sleep. There were already black roots below the pinkish red of his hair, the tips of them almost golden where the dye had faded, and Baekhyun let out a small, amused huff as he sat on the mattress. He was made of blue and black, himself, but red and gold were such pretty colors.

He must have moved, and Chanyeol must have sensed it, because he groaned and turned and his eyes flickered open. He blinked, eyes unfocused in the darkness, and his fingers grabbed him by the wrist. It wasn’t a hard grip, and Baekhyun allowed him to keep his hold on him, grinning at him even though he knew that Chanyeol’s eyes needed to get used to the dimness to see. It didn’t matter, actually, if he couldn’t yet.

“Baekhyun…?” he called, voice still heavy with sleep, a bit hesitant.

Perhaps he thought he was dreaming of him. That was cute, and reminded Baekhyun of other nightmares. 

He stretched his arm to tap Chanyeol’s forehead with his index finger. “Look at you, with your guard all down,” he murmured. “I could have just killed you, if I was your enemy.”

Chanyeol blinked once, twice, and Baekhyun could almost see his brain, starting to work again. “Baekhyun,” he said, slightly annoyed now, maybe. “I was fucking sleeping.”

He still was the only person who was so adamant in calling him by his given name. Such a Chanyeol thing to do. “It’s already light outside.”

“What are you even talking about, I just came back.”

“No,  _ I _ just came back.”

“Then what are you doing in my room.”

“I don’t know. I was bored?”

Chanyeol turned around, sinking his head deeper into the pillow, groaning into it. “Seriously,” he said. He moved again to face Baekhyun, his pupils wide in the dark. “You even have your suit on and your weapons on you.” It was just a comment, but there was an edge to it, the same that was there every time Baekhyun did something stupid.

Leaving him behind, for example. “Hey, I sort of came fast to inform you. Our mission was a success! I am the first to tell you, I assume?”

“I was sleeping,” Chanyeol repeated.

“Well then, we got the girl. She was retrieved in one piece.”

“Aren’t you tired?” Chanyeol complained. 

“She was taken to the Doc’s by the retrieval team, so we’ll check on her later, eh, Zero boy?” Baekhyun clapped his hands together as he watched the other man finally sit on the bed, back against the headboard and hand ruffling his own messy hair. He looked cute like that, kinda hot too. What he didn’t look was very happy, and that made Baekhyun feel a pang of discomfort. “The whole thing was pretty epic, though a bit disappointing in the end. Bonecrusher filed a complaint against me - _another_ _one_ , I mean. I thought he would get bored of doing that at some point, but he still seems to believe I have to follow orders.” Chanyeol didn’t reply, and Baekhyun stopped himself and sighed. “What?” The only reply he got was a frown and a whole second of silence. “You’re mad at me.”

“I’m tired.”

“I know you well enough to know you’re lying.”

Chanyeol pressed his lips in a line, reaching out to turn on the light on the bedside table, and it really wasn’t Baekhyun’s fault to find him hot when he was upset, and neither he wanted him to be, not then, now now, but he still was attractive when he looked at him like he was impossible. It took Chanyeol another heartbeat to speak. “You sent me back,” he said. “We were almost there and you managed to send me back.”

Oh, that. Baekhyun had forgotten that it had technically happened because of him, after the girl and the tank and Doctor Lu’s back pressed against his chest. He still remembered the smell, and the heat, like warm ashes after a fire. He’d noticed Chanyeol’s absence back then, sort of, the empty space and the silence.

He didn’t want to think about that. “Come on, you had been shot. I was just worried about you.”

It was obvious that Chanyeol didn’t buy it. Which was funny, because that time he had nothing to sell to him. “I was okay.”

“You were limping.”

“I could still walk.”

“And then I’m the reckless soul and you’re the sensible one.” Baekhyun snorted at him. “I guess I’m rubbing on you, boy. We couldn’t have you around all wounded while walking into a potentially dangerous zone, and you already ignored my advice about staying out of it once. I was all worried, you know?”

“You’re an asshole.” Chanyeol groaned. “Did you even have to run or fight after you left me behind, to begin with?”

Baekhyun pretended to consider. “Not really. But not because I didn’t want to. Bonecrusher’s fault - you would expect a bit more violence from a guy with such an alias.”

That was pretty convincing, if anyone asked him, but Chanyeol wasn’t having it, apparently. It had to be hard to live, sometimes, with a face that always gave out how he was feeling. “Still,” he said. “You didn’t ask me.”

“Because you would have said no.”

“Which is, overall, a great reason. Right.”

“I’ll… ask next time?” Baekhyun tried, shrugging.

“You don’t mean that.”

At that, Baekhyun had to smile. “I’ll try?”

“You sounded really convincing.”

Baekhyun turned around to kneel on the mattress. “Wow. You really  _ are _ mad.” Chanyeol raised his eyebrows at him, and the boy found himself biting his lip. “Okay, okay, I apologize. I’ll try to be good from now on.”

“I’m still not sure if that sounds believable.”

“Well, sadly for you, my word is the only thing you have.” He didn’t want to close his eyes and see the girl in the tank. He much preferred Chanyeol looking at him, with that face he always made when he was trying to understand him, with his brow frown, and his lips pressed, and that trace of the uncertainty of someone at the edge of a cliff, wondering if he should risk the jump. Baekhyun had really been worried, when he had realized he had been shot - which was stupid, because shoots were something that happened to people like them on the battlefield. “How is it?” he asked, tilting his head to look at the bandage half hidden by Chanyeol’s shirt.

“Fine,” he said. 

“They took you to Kyungsoo so he’d heal you?”

“Yeah. Wasn’t that part of your masterplan?” Chanyeol replied, the second sentence like an afterthought when Baekhyun reached to touch the bandages with the tip of his fingers. He was still upset but he was looking at him, the shadow of his lashes darkening his cheeks under the yellow light of the lamp. Baekhyun had to bit down a smile.

“How’s the leg one?” He lowered his gaze to the place where the bandage should be. 

“Good,” Chanyeol said.

“Good,” Baekhyun repeated. He knew how to get himself forgiven for now. Maybe. “I had come to check on you, so I guess I can leave now. Let you rest and all, you know.” He stood up. Chanyeol did nothing, said nothing, but his eyes were now fixed on his back. Baekhyun took a step towards the door and stopped himself, bouncing a bit on his feet. “Hey, could you do me a favor?” he asked over his shoulder, taking his fingers to his lips when Chanyeol sighed.

“What is it, Baekhyun?”

It felt like it had happened an eternity ago - that moment when Baekhyun’s zipper had got stuck in the material of his suit and Chanyeol had come and pulled it up like it was the most natural thing to do. And it probably was, but Baekhyun’s mind had gone completely blank for a second when he had done it, and then haywire.

“Can you help me unzip this thing? I can’t, myself,” he said, attempting to reach back just to prove his point.

The truth was that Baekhyun had taken of that suit a thousand times by himself. The truth also was that Chanyeol was clever enough to know and tell him to fuck off.

“Come here,” he said, however, getting up until he was standing, with his messy hair and his messy clothes, and his warm breath on Baekhyun’s neck when the boy complied. The zipper went down in one pull, a swift glide, and Baekhyun shivered a bit when the air of the room touched the naked skin of his back. “There you go.”

“Thank you.” Chanyeol didn’t reply, but there was a light graze of fingers at the small of Baekhyun’s back. “I should go now,” the boy announced. He took one step forward, until the strip of morning light coming through the crack in the curtains was on his face, on the portion of his shoulder where the unzipped black uniform gave way to skin. “Sleep well, yes?”

He didn’t even try to hide his smile when Chanyeol’s hand closed around his wrist. “Wait,” he told him.

“What?”

“You’re doing it on purpose, aren’t you?”

Chanyeol looked so upset when Baekhyun turned around to raise his eyebrows at him - if at himself or at Baekhyun, the boy didn’t know. “What?” Baekhyun repeated. He was ready to place his hands on Chanyeol’s shoulders when he brought him close, to push him down a bit so he was sitting on the bed and Baekhyun was the one looking down at him. Fate was a strange thing, a red ribbon tied around his pinky and crimson shackles on his wrists - it brought him nightmares when broken, but it’d also delivered that boy to him, and with him the chance to forget the girl in the tank, Yixing’s absence, Doctor Lu’s smile. Fire on his blood and numbness in his mind, then clarity. “I thought you wanted to sleep?” he teased.

Chanyeol clicked his tongue but brought him closer, closer. Good. “Baekhyun,” he said, somewhere between arousal and exasperation, so the boy took it as a cue to push him back on the mattress. He bit his lip, metal ring cool against the tender skin of his lips.

“Still angry at me?”

He’d been straddling him, but Chanyeol turned them around, the sheets around his back, the suit lowered enough now to bare the shape of his collarbones. He sighed, so close to his lips that Baekhyun could have breathed his frustration in. “This won’t work for you forever,” Chanyeol told him, and Baekhyun laughed.

“It seems to be working perfectly so far,” he replied, before Chanyeol reached down and stole his breath away from him with a kiss. 

\--

Fate’s red string sometimes felt like a bright light in the darkness, sometimes a grip on his neck. 

“You're nervous again,” Chanyeol had said, all matter of factly, lying on his side of the bed, back against the wall and eyes on him.

“Am I?” had replied Baekhyun, trying to imprint humor into his voice, but it has sounded more like irony, or maybe betrayal. He didn’t want to be. He hadn’t expected to be. He hadn’t wanted Chanyeol to notice. But he was, he’d admit it, and Chanyeol’s annoyance had dissolved into some sort of quiet curiosity, and so Baekhyun found himself sighing. “There was some weird railway underground. And Doctor Lu was there. We caught him in the act of transporting the girl. He was the one doing it, and I hate that guy.”

Chanyeol blinked slowly. “The one who told me I’d be going to the army?” he asked. “We met that one a couple of times. Why him more than the others?”

“I didn’t say I hated him more, necessarily,” started Baekhyun, but Chanyeol raised his eyebrows, in that same face he made when Baekhyun told him and insisted that he was eating correctly, and the boy’s breath hitched in his throat. Okay, maybe the need to talk about what was bubbling in his throat, pushing forward and up, and it would do him no harm to speak. “Or well, maybe you’re a clever boy and I do. Remember my Destined person, and how he was taken away from me? That guy and Commander Wu were the ones to carry the order. And you know, the Commander is just some self-righteous idiot with a bitchface who thinks that, deep down, I fear or respect him, but that Doctor… He thinks I’m nothing.”

“What…?”

“Years ago, when he came and took everything away from me, he told me that he was letting me live because he didn’t consider me to be dangerous. And even after all this time, he thinks I’m no threat. Even if I have a gun against his temple. Even if he’s losing. He doesn’t give a damn, you know?”

He’d expected Chanyeol to laugh, for some reason, or to scoff and ask him if recognition was so important to him. He’d told that to Jongdae, once, and the guy was his friend but that was the reply he’d gotten. Chanyeol, however, just considered him, serious. “It’s shitty,” he whispered. “To feel so small.”

Baekhyun blinked. “Uh?” he asked, and Chanyeol gave him an amused smile.

“I’m still Dreamless, you know?”

For a moment, Baekhyun didn’t know what to say, so he bit his lip and stared at the ceiling. He forgot about that sometimes - about Chanyeol sounding so bitter when he spoke about Dreamlessness, or about him having had his Fate changed, rescripted and denied. He wanted to say something, and was about to, but in the end the words died in his mouth.

It was Chanyeol who did again, after a while, when Baekhyun thought he had fallen asleep. “How was he?” he murmured. He chuckled when Baekhyun turned to look at him, eyes widening in slight confusion. 

“Who?”

“That Yixing boy. You mention him a lot, but you never talk about him.”

Baekhyun’s first reaction was to hit Chanyeol on the healthy shoulder. “Since when is he  _ Yixing boy _ ?” he protested, but there still was that glint of curiosity in Chanyeol’s eyes, and Baekhyun’s breathed in. His second reaction was to try to remain still and smiling as his pulse raced and his throat went dry. Yixing had always been his person and his reason to fight, and Baekhyun had always felt that his memories would fade away if he let them out in the open. “He was kind,” he said, almost having to push the words out. It sounded so… banal, just like that.

“So, kind,” repeated Chanyeol.

“I like kind people,” Baekhyun tried to defend himself. Chanyeol hummed, and when the boy stared at him he realized that he had his eyes closed, smile twitching on his lips, and Baekhyun thought that he could have just left it at there and that he wouldn’t get asked anymore. It sounded tempting, really. Fate always felt like a red string around his wrist, curling around it, keeping him safe and in position, a thing that was only his. It was his guide, his punishment, the empty space in his chest. “I miss him, though. Many times. It feels like a ghost limb. You wonder about what he’d say, or what he’d do, and you suddenly realize that you can’t know because he’s not there. That kind of thing.”

It maybe wasn’t a good idea to tell the guy he was sleeping with about the guy he loved, but Chanyeol hummed again. “So you  _ really _ do nice stuff sometimes, uh?” he teased him again.

“Hey, I open up to you and you start insinuating I’m not a nice guy, normally? I’m hurt.”

“You’re not,” Chanyeol cut him with a snort, and Baekhyun didn’t know which one of his two statements he was talking about. “But I’m serious, though. You’re fighting for him after all, so trying to keep his image in your mind is… good, I guess? Although I suppose that’s not the kind of thing you forget that easily.”

_ It’s not,  _ Baekhyun wanted to say.  _ Of course I wouldn’t.  _ But when his lips parted, they were trembling a bit. He was tired, sometimes, after days like those. He could allow it to himself just once. “That’s what I’d like to think but I… I make myself remember because there’s some things I can’t help to forget. The sound of his voice… I’m sure I’d recognize it anywhere if he called me but I don’t recall how it was, exactly. The tone, or the cadence, or the words he used the most - those are already gone.”

Chanyeol remained silent for a moment, looking at him with big, dark eyes. Baekhyun couldn’t read them at all, and he knew enough of that boy to know that he wasn’t upset at him, but still the uncertainty in his chest felt so unfamiliar. He shouldn't have spoken to him, he shouldn't have--

In front of him, Chanyeol frowned. “The Obelisk really are bastards aren't they?” he said. “How old was he?”

“One year older than me. Than us.”

“So he was in high school.”

“Yeah.”

“That's sad,” murmured Chanyeol, and the shocking thing was that he  _ really _ sounded the part. That boy, who was so terrible at hiding how he felt. 

Baekhyun tried to find something to say, because he'd learned that speechlessness was never the choice. In the end, he went to graze the bandages on Chanyeol’s shoulder and laughed. “Oh, come on, Zero boy, don't say it like that. You sound like you're worried about me or something.”

Chanyeol’s eyes fluttered closed. “But I am?” he stated, voice slightly raising up at the end of the sentence. Baekhyun’s breath hitched in his throat, and the expression in his face must have been priceless, because Chanyeol huffed at him when he opened one eye to stare. “Come on, don’t look at me like that, we’re partners.”

Baekhyun was used to tease and to joke and to smile, but that time he got stuck between them for a second. “I guess,” he said in the end, lips curling up and face sinking into the pillow. He closed his eyes and breathed in - and saw no girl in the tank against the black of his eyelids.

“Hey,” Chanyeol told him after a while, when Baekhyun’s consciousness was already drifting towards a motionless dark. “Did you use it in the end? The sketchbook I gave you.”

“Uh,” Baekhyun had grunted, before taking a deep breath and slipping away.

He had only woken up when the sun was a red dot at the other side of the glass wall of the Dome, when Chanyeol turned around in his own sleep and hit him in the face with the back of his hand - and Baekhyun was normally allowed to rest after a mission, but he wasn’t as used to being able to sleep for some many hours in a row. He sat on the bed, carefully putting Chanyeol’s hand away and staring at him before laying it on the mattress. He looked like he still needed the rest, so he didn’t wake him. Instead, he got up himself and stole a sweater and some shorts he was keeping on the chair - because there was no way Baekhyun was getting into his battle gear again - before slipping away to his own room.

The landscape at the other side of his own window was made of crimson red light bleeding from the glass onto the buildings, and on the floor, almost blood red over the blue and green of the few neons in that part of town. It was Destiny red, bright, like the leather jacket he kept in his closet and the curved red line of Doctor Lu’s smile.

He walked to the window and traced lines on the glass with the tip of his finger, following the light, taking it the colors as they melded together.

He’d always liked colors, and the bright lines of them over the dull shadows of the Dome. That was why he’d kept painting landscapes, every once in a while, even if he didn’t have time to lose it on that anymore. He’d thrown every single art supply away, after Kyungsoo had installed his new eyes, despite his new ones allowing to appreciate shapes and colors and details better.

Yixing would have been sad, but those eyes hadn’t been installed for that purpose after all. The letter coming from the Obelisk had told him that he would work as an artist by the time his middle twenties came, but like everything else it had been a lie and his real purpose had been different.

Would he make it to his middle twenties, he wondered?

_ Did you use it in the end?  _ Chanyeol had asked.  _ The sketchbook I gave you. _

He hadn’t, not really, but the thing was so pretty. Instead, he’d kept it in his closet, still in its fancy bag, hidden in one corner behind a pile of sweaters. He opened it carefully as he took it out, grazing the paper with his fingers as he turned to look at the city at the other side of the glass.

He had been serious when he had said someone like him didn’t have time to lose it in something like drawing anymore, but he’d admit it helped him clear his head when things went messy and wrong.

_ Did you use it?  _ Chanyeol had said, and Baekhyun believed there was a red pencil somewhere in the drawers of his desk, along with others - orange, green, yellow and blue. And he could have drawn anything with those, but still he sat on the windowsill and went for the light, because it was the only thing that was everywhere: in his dreams, in the tank, in Yixing’s last night and in Chanyeol’s eyes. It was in the Dome now, dulled by the walls when he had the time to stop and stare. Even if sometimes he never did.

Fate for him always felt like a crimson string, securely circling his wrist, but sometimes it tangled around his fingers, and around his chest, and his neck and then he was left unable to move and choking. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, well, this was all for now!
> 
> Did you like it? If so, please leave comments and kudos~
> 
> I'll be back at the end of July with a brand new chapter, so please stay tuned!
> 
> If you want to talk to me, I'm also on twitter (https://twitter.com/babyeoI)  
> Tumblr (haven't been logging on much lately but still: https://baby-yeol.tumblr.com/ ) and on CuriousCat (https://curiouscat.me/babyeol)
> 
> See you soon again, and please drop by BAE's account to have a look at my fic for their fest too! (or check it on my account after reveals)


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